This Adult Stuff

There's childhood, there's adulthood, and then there's that not-quite-either limbo that 23-year-olds such as myself inhabit. We linger in this purgatory of uncertainty and confusion for months, years, and then...

And then? We get out of it. Yet the how and the when are different for each person. I recently spent a weekend with my two best girlfriends, one of whom I haven't seen since our college graduation. Oh, how wonderful to see these friends! Friends in a true sense of the word (since I take friendship rather seriously.)

We got to talking about post-grad life. Ah, the bliss of being in college. The faux-independence of living under the umbrella of your campus. College-organized events (with free food,) classes that give us “real-world application,” and a pantry that never runs out (even though the dining hall can be quite atrocious.) You complete the requirements, b.s. some essays, and are handed perhaps the greatest piece of paper you ever held in your hands-your college diploma. The proof that YES, YOU HAVE ACHIEVED SOMETHING GREAT!

The novelty doesn't last too long for most. Welcome to the real “real world.” What are these envelopes addressed to me that keep showing up in the mailbox? Not cool. Creditkarma tells me my credit history got a “D” grade. Excuse me, I don't get “D's.” You are talking to a long-term honors student! News flash: Real. Life. Doesn't. Care.

Ouch.

Anyway, back to my friends. We were sitting together over a buffet dinner. And as I contemplated that I should probably stuff my face because this $12.00 meal plus decent tip is going to have to hold me for the next 3 days because I'm broke as a joke...we discussed this “real world” business.

Keep in mind that my friends took the practical route. One majored in Business and the other in Accounting. While they spent their 4 years in college learning about economics and business trends and how to file your taxes, I was being a Creative, taking Erotic Literature and watching Experimental Film (I'll just let you imagine what that entails.) I took a Philosophy of Yoga class and sketched nudes. Then I escaped to Ecuador for a year because oh crap-I didn't have a game plan for my post-grad life.

October 18^th 2014. Friend A has just taken her final CPA exam and bought a Mercedes in May. Friend B is chugging away at her business job while exploring a transfer opportunity in Arizona. Kaitlin is teaching part-time ESL classes online and just calculated her yearly income. CUE MENTAL BREAKDOWN!

Okay, so I bypassed a mental breakdown, but I did go through a week of perpetual worry about my situation. So much so that Friend B demanded her business-savvy boyfriend to write me a lengthy letter about how I am not doomed for eternity. Basically, it's not wise to compare yourself to someone else. Ever. We all have our own interests and gifts. We all also have struggles, no matter how successful we may seem. My friends may be business-minded, and that's great-for them. It does not mean that they too don't have huge hurdles to face. Besides, there are opportunities in any field. I'm a firm believer in chasing your dreams. Idealistic? Sure. Impossible? I don't think so. 

Rome wasn't built in a day. But I wasn't an architecture major, so I probably shouldn't even use that idiom. Why can't there be a degree for Corny Writing?

Wake Me Up, September's Over!

Humans are just meant to socialize. Have you ever eaten a meal alone in a restaurant? It's awkward, right? Or maybe you've seen a crowd having fun in the park. Don't you want to join in? It feels strange to stand there and watch, to remain isolated and separate from the rest.

I've been back from Ecuador 3 months now. Each 30-day period, I find myself reflecting on new ideas, discoveries, and improvements. I'm taking baby steps, but I can work with the slow-and-steady approach.

I'm working and I'm enjoying it. I'm meeting new people, and I'm enjoying that even more. Which brings me back to the socialization thing. It's not always easy to emerge from that comforting pace of life that feels so safe and stable. I understand that. It was much easier to curl up in my bed and keep company with books than to investigate and explore who and what is out there in the world. Well, there's the good, the bad, and the ugly. I'll be exposed to all of that. Yet, I've got a good head on my shoulders, a core group of friends who love me, and a God who loves me even more, so I know I'm going to be okay if I step out into the world and try this whole living thing.

I met a new friend this past weekend. I never would've met him if I stayed huddled up in my room all day. However, I took a chance, made the leap, and realized that there are decent people out there who share my values. I think that's one of the great things about humans; we are the same, yet different. We all know what fear feels like...and love, hope, pain, sorrow, happiness. We have interests that differ from each other, but we all understand what a smile means, we can sense when someone is in distress or feels anger. We can navigate some pretty intense situations! It's amazing! (If you're Eileen or Lynne, you get this phrase.)

So this new friend is great. He's a rare breed of human as well. No, he's got 2 eyes and his nose and mouth are in the proper places. He has no missing limbs either. What he does have is an actual family unit. I know I'm not alone in the fact that I haven't had a sit-down family dinner in ages, or that the parent who lives with me takes little interest in what I'm doing. And I'm not complaining about it; it is what it is. (Is this why I don't want kids?! That's for another time...)

Anyway, hearing my friend talk about his family got me thinking about “family” in the United States. In a society that rewards efficient schedules, no free time, and grab-and-go meals, and of course INDIVIDUALITY, is it no wonder that family has taken on a somewhat new meaning? I live with a father and a sister, but we're more like residents in a boarding house than a unit. I remember being so touched by the solidarity of families in Ecuador. People make it a point to sit down with each other and chat about the day's events. They cook with each other and savor the meal together, taking their time instead of rushing through it to get to football practice, or worse-watching it in front of a television while ignoring their relatives.

When you see someone you know across the street, in Ecuador it is very rude to simply nod hello or wave. You cross the street, kiss the person, and spend at least 5 minutes talking about their family and how they're doing. At first, this seemed like an awful lot of work, but I came to really enjoy it. I felt human again! My robotic sensibilities were melting away! It was OKAY to put down what I was doing and take interest in another human being. The world was not going to stop spinning if I tried something new and different. Actually, the world sped up and I enjoyed a nice ride. It wasn't me against the world.

These are things I think about as I end September 2014. Last year I was in South America, trying to be a teacher, traversing a land previously unknown. This year, I'm wandering about a land I thought I knew, and realizing there is so much more out there.  

Seahorses

-Did you know that seahorses are very poor swimmers? I'm among friends.
-Seahorses swim upright.
-Seahorses will court each other before breeding.
-They can change color very quickly to match their surroundings.

They flit about, up and down. Bobbing along, dusk to dawn.
I want to join the seahorses; I want to hug their necks and let them
carry me through the strange new world.
The seahorses are tiny, but I can get tiny, too. I can make myself smaller;
ever smaller. I'm a speck, I'm a bit of dust! I can trail along with the seahorses.
We'll be a little family gang.
Yellow, green, blue, and violet.
Indigo, red, orange, pink.
They are like mobile coral reefs; they are upper-class seaweed.
Oceanic ferns with trumpet noses. If I delve into the depths of the sea,
will I hear their siren song? With chests puffed out, and tails curlicued,
and papery skin stretched taut over bones; they are like delicate flowers.
Flowers that swim! They will teach me to maneuver the blue expanse
of vast wetness. My fear will dwindle and be smaller than seahorse bones.
And even more fragile. Together, we will break the wall of terror that pervades
my mind. Just like water, the fear will drip and trickle, then gush away.
I am free! I am with the seahorses, patiently floating; the marine life washing
around me. I am not drowning, I am buoyed by the seahorses. I hear their song.
I open my mouth; I breathe in life. I exhale and the bubbles surround us.
We flit about, up and down. Bobbing along, dusk to dawn. Together we
navigate the paths; together we are a colorful breeze passing through.  

Normal, Not Normal, Who Cares?

“Are you coming over today?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“Good. It's feels normal when you come over.”

“I'm normal?”

“Having you in the house is normal now.”

Essentially, there is no 'normal.' Maybe there is an average, or a dominating trend in society, but who decided what is 'normal' and what is 'not normal?' Being someone who has been called 'not normal' for most of my life, I take pride in the fact that I tend to go against the norm. (Hey, look! My face isn't buried in an electronic device permanently attached to my palm!)

Getting back to the conversation above, it was between my sister's boyfriend and me. Having this 22-year-old male passing out in a food coma on our couch or discussing race cars and football in his booming voice with my dad gives me this strange feeling of comfort. Wow, someone outside the realm of my sister, my dad, and me can function in our house?! I am constantly bogged down by the insecurity that our house has this gross musty smell infesting the carpet that's older than me, and the dirt encrusted in random objects that no one bothered to clean is less-than-appealing. Even I found the house repulsive when I returned from a year away.

Yet, finally, it's not just Dad, Sister, Me. Dad, who goes to work all day and disappears on weekends to shoot pool. Sister, who is either at class, at work, and will act as if communication would kill her. And me, who works from home, finds refuge in my bike, and wonders how long I'll be living here.

Enter Sister's Boyfriend. Male. Talks of sports, cars, and can eat more than I thought humanly possible. Sister's Boyfriend, for whom I keep a bottle of TUMS in the cabinet. Sister's Boyfriend, who bought me waffles at 1am when I was having one of those nights. Sister's Boyfriend, who makes me feel like an actual person, not 'the sister, so I have to be nice her.' I believe he's my friend, and a gateway to spending more time with my sister.

I've come to terms with my family. There is no cookie-cutter family. No manual that says “Family does this at this time with this person in this place. They live here, and have this pet, and they name this pet this.” We live in our row home in Upper Darby; we make do with the neighbors who curse their kids out, and the death of the stray cat we tried to save. We are related by blood, but not interests. While it sucks to accept this, that's just what I'm doing. We are not all going to sit at the dinner table or hug each other. I love them, and they know that. And that's enough for them.

I've got to make it enough for me.

That's where Sister's Boyfriend comes in. And my other friends. I may not have loads of friends, but the ones I've got are pretty damn good. You can't choose your family, so choose your friends wisely. And even if all those friends just deserted me, guess what? I've got my Lord, who is the best friend you could ever imagine. So, I'm gonna be all right.

Still, it is nice to see a new face in the house. And even nicer when the new face decides to stay a while.  

Desensitized

     It is scary that we now live in a world where tragedy is no longer news; it's sports. As we eat our Cheerios and watch the daily newscast, we crunch away at the cereal while listening to tales of school shootings, suicide bombers, and civil unrest. We gulp down our coffee while gulping down the latest story of neighbors killing each other, and we do not for one second have a gag reflex.

     What is happening? It is now a world of brother versus brother. Brother in a larger context; not blood and family lines, but in terms of the human race. That person of a completely different ethnicity, economic background, or religion is your brother (or sister.) Language is only a small frog leap, yet many people make it (and other factors) huge mountainous barriers that separate us. If we accept the challenge to don some climbing gear and traverse that mountain, we will actually discover that it is nothing more than a hill, maybe with some weeds poking up from the ground.

     The language barrier has been broken time and again by many people (famous and little-known.) Religious differences have been set aside in those rare, beautiful moments when people just come together to love each other. To love one another not as a Christian, or a Muslim. Not as an American, or a Russian. Not as a “minority” or “one of the few who still has some class.” Individuals and groups of people have joined together to celebrate each other; that they all have a beating human heart.

     Everyone has fears, hopes, dreams, desires, strengths, weaknesses, talents, faults; experiences that can teach someone something. Everyone has a person that they love to pieces. At the end of the day, when the sun descends and darkness falls, everyone has the same thoughts of a goal they wish to achieve, or a person they would do anything for, or a fear that keeps needling at them relentlessly. So why do we tend to think that we are all so different?

     Look at the next stranger you see. What do you notice? Their race? What kind of clothing they are wearing? What language they are speaking? Can you look beyond that? Can you see the essence of the human being; that this person standing before you is just like you...a person with thoughts and feelings?

     If a person upsets you, do you blame it on their race or ethnicity? Do you blame it on some invented fault that you imagined for them? If you find a person extremely admirable, do you attribute it to their being so similar to you? Do you search for the ways that this person shares some kind of characteristic or experience with you?

     As you drink that second cup of coffee and skim the side-bar newspaper column about the raging fighting in some country thousands of miles away that you have very little knowledge of, can you step back and imagine that the people in this country are just like you? They get hungry and thirsty. They feel cold and warmth. They long to be comforted. They get angry and happy. They are capable of laughing and crying. They breathe in and out, just like you. They have emotions just like you.

Or is it easier to just turn the page and skip to the Entertainment section and read about some teen idol's latest DUI?  

08.21.14.

Things on my mind:

     In a world where we measure our happiness based on “likes” and the race to post our vacay photos, job promotion news, and status updates about our latest financial indulgence; is it a wonder it's so easy to get down in the dumps? I don't think more people are depressed these days than in the past, I just think it's easier for them to be depressed.

     Maybe good things happened to me today. Maybe they didn't. But either way, I don't need to post it on Facebook and clog the news-feeds of my 36 Facebook friends. Friends meaning: I would send a hand-written letter to you because I value the time we've spent together and I wish to keep in touch...and Facebook's an easy way to do that.

     I live in a world where the white-picket fence ideal is having 500+ friends and a bunch of likes on that uploaded photo of your day trip to the ocean.

     If you're on vacation, and you don't have a job, is it still vacation?

     I figured out my life the other day.

     Age 23-30. Build up the writing portfolio, sending submissions to various publications. Work job in museum setting and learn about art history. *Ideal: get a Masters in anthropology somewhere in this time frame.* Age 30: Get job with NatGeo; be their writer who gets sent to cool places like Polynesia to research the culture and write about it. Fall in love with my partner/photographer. We live the nomadic life as a pair of wandering sea turtles. Not sure why I chose sea turtles, since I hate being in open bodies of water. It just seemed very pleasant. So, the sea turtle scheme stays.

     Why didn't I think of this plan before?

     The cat is sitting in the windowsill, basking. Basking, basking. Tummy rises, falls. Fur is brown, then golden, then white, then golden; brown. Up and down. Up and down.

     A sound. Ears prick. A mouse! No, the wind. No...a fly. Rise. All four feet, padding on carpet. This carpet reeks! Sniff. No good. The fly! Buzz, buzz. Buzz. Must catch. Pad, pad, pad. There he is! Leap! Snatch. Miss. Pad, pad.

     A sound. Ears prick. The girl! The skinny one. Ah, yes, behind the ears, get behind the ears! What's this? She sees the fly. My name? She's saying my name. She's pointing to the fly.

     That is not my job.

I Write.

I started doing the online dating thing. But I think I'm going to stop.

Why does almost every guy want a quick sex buddy?

I mean, I get horny, too. I'm a 23-year-old virgin; in today's world I'm like a rare conch shell in the diminishing Great Barrier Reef.

I don't know what I feel right now. I miss David. I miss Cj. These are not former lovers. These are not current lovers. They are people who have made an impact on my life.

How is that some people just leave an imprint in you? As if you were made of wet cement, and this person came along and dipped a toe or placed their hand on the malleable surface. And the material hardened, and now you've got this person's print stuck on you. For better or for worse.

Is that how relationships are? Of the romantic and platonic and just plain friend varieties? What about relatives? They say you can't choose your family. I guess not. It's weird to think that those people who go to Disney World every year have some of the similar blood to me flowing through them. Or the sad-sack neglected adolescent in a poor neighborhood of Philadelphia. How much of our blood is the same? What if it were possible to take a sample of your blood and portion it into blood that belongs to your family and blood that is all yours.

Whoa, or what if when you gave blood, your family's blood went into the recipient's bloodstream, and now they were part of your family? But then, if you met this recipient years later and ended up marrying them or something, would you be marrying one of your own blood? That's so twisted up.

I have this intense urge to go sit in a coffee shop with my laptop and furiously write away. I hate the taste of coffee. It's also 9:30pm.

Sometimes I imagine that I am seeing myself from far away. I practice my facial expressions and my walk and my stance. Oh, I tucked my hair behind my ear here. And I my eye twitched there; what, am I on drugs? And I did a cool pivot move around that corner.

I'm so cool.

It's so weird.

I asked my sister if I would ever get married. She said “yes.” I asked my dad the same thing. He said “I don't know. You don't have to.”

Weddings are expensive and overrated. But it's kind of intriguing to fret over the color of the napkin holders.

Napkin holders are some of the oddest things I've ever heard of. I don't get it.

Why are napkins usually white? That only makes them look dirty before you even wipe your mouth on it. Black napkins are all sleek and elegant. I really like when I go to a restaurant and they have black napkins.

But then there's the question of whether the napkins should be cloth or paper. Because it's kind of creepy knowing someone totally made out with the cloth napkin I'm using right now. But paper napkins tend to look cheap when you're dining out. I mean, I would want to treat someone to a nice dinner with cloth napkins. Other times, I really couldn't give a crap.

Why is it that at whatever age I'm currently at, I imagine life in 2 or 3 years' time, and it always seems really nice. Years go by, but I never really feel older. I think my body stayed at 14 years old. My mind definitely grew, but I don't know.

Sometimes I get frustrated with the fact that I took a bunch of “half-ass” classes in college because I didn't feel like doing the “hard” stuff. I know nothing about business and economics. I don't know how to solve algorithms. Shit!

I can do the corpse pose. I learned deep breathing and the history of yoga. I know the basic Buddhist beliefs. I attended a class where I could use the F-word freely in my essays.

I like to eat hummus and make my own gazpacho. I'm terrified to go to some parts of Mexico after watching documentaries. I wrote a 60-page thesis in Spanish about a Catalan architect. And then I saw his works in person.

That makes me smile!

Sometimes I wish that people were like possessions that I could store in a little tupperware box and take with me everywhere. But then I guess the people would shrivel up and die.

Should I get a hermit crab or a turtle instead?

One summer I was staying in a beach house in Cape May with a friend. I remember a day when us two got locked out, and the Eastern European woman next door took us in and gave us old frumpy frocks to wear, because it was raining.

My friend swears this did not happen.

A Trip to the Shrink

There's a couch. And a box of tissues. Also a really nice glass sculpture in the window, which I admire vocally. I am paying someone to listen to my problems, to nod and “mm-hmm” and hopefully offer pearls of wisdom. The things we do in first-world countries.

My therapist is nice. He's got a beard and glasses and he wears a plaid shirt. I like him already. And the couch is a plus. I told him I'd probably lie down on it next time. Then I ask if that's okay. It is!

Ever since April, my blues have been pestering me, and they're not going away. I don't mind paying this man to listen to my life story. I feel better doing it. I will see him next week.

We talk about lots of things. I tell him about my trip to Ecuador and what I was doing; about important events in my life; about things that happened that might have caused these current feelings; about people in my life; about my thoughts. He “mm-hmms” a lot; more than I thought therapists actually did in real life, but it doesn't bother me. He writes on a notepad, and I can hear him underlining things and putting boxes around others. Hmmm...

I used to be really against going to “shrinks.” It was just a matter of GET A GRIP and THAT'S LIFE. Or best of all: MAYBE IF I IGNORE IT, IT'LL GO AWAY.

Nope.

Now I think it's good to get a professional opinion and to hear from someone outside my little social sphere. It's nice to just have someone all to myself for an hour who listens intently and absorbs what I'm saying and provides feedback on that. It's certainly a breath of fresh air.

The tissues weren't needed this time, but they probably will be in the future. That's fine. As long as the couch stays, we're good.

Week One on the Alien Planet

This will either be verbal diarrhea or a semi-meaningful stream of consciousness. I've been home for a week.

Sometimes it's rough here, because I don't really have any friends here yet. Essentially, I've been away from my hometown for 5 years (college and Ecuador) so I have to kind of resettle and establish my life again. My younger sister (always at work) doesn't really talk to me...I don't know why.

I am doing the job hunt. It's a job in itself. I'm looking for either an ESL-teaching job or a writing job. It's extremely difficult and frustrating, but I try to keep a sunny outlook. It's been a little over a week since I've been home and these things take time. Still, I don't want to be that 23-year-old bumming it at home. So I clean the house a lot.

I also ride my bike a lot. It's wonderful biking through Center City. I go up and down the Parkway and LOVE Park and all the craziness and culture of the city. Can't wait to hit up the art museum as well. I also found a church here I really like; I signed up for a sort of church community day in which we all share our skills. I'm thinking of giving a mini Spanish lesson! I also joined a book club and writing circle at my local library. I hope through that to meet some people my age and hopefully some friendships. Plus I love books. And writing.

I have started doing some little sketches, which is good. I need to get back into that. It makes me feel good to produce something. I'm exploring with a kind of '60s look right now-flat planes of color and simple forms. I guess sort of similar to what your parents' wallpaper looked like in the 1960s...?

I'm still having stomach issues (although not as bad as my gross sickness my last week in Cuenca); I don't know what's up, but it's uber-annoying. I have a stomach ache almost every day. I don't have a doctor's appointment for another 3 weeks...

I am enjoying the weather. It gets dark around 9:00pm, and it's very hot here. The humidity is starting to kick in. But my arms and legs are finally exposed to some sun! I love watching the sunsets at around 8:30-8:45 at night...so beautiful. And I finally got my delicious Indian and Vietnamese food.

I haven't spoken with my Ecuadorian neighbors yet. They're often out and about, but I think their young daughter had another baby...

Sometimes I feel as if I'm the only person with a brain around here, but I remind myself not to get frustrated with where I live. It's a bad neighborhood, but there are bright spots if you keep an open mind. People still play baseball in the field across the street and my neighbors are nice, even if they are rowdy. They respect my father, which is important to me because he does a lot of good for our neighborhood. Yesterday, there were 6 cop cars in front of the house across the street; I'm pretty sure the people who live there are selling drugs on the sly (my neighborhood has a serious problem with drugs, but thankfully, not guns.)

I'm looking forward to a trip to the shore in late July. We go to Wildwood. It's tacky and fabulous. More on that in a future post.

 I spoke with one of my best friends, who told me that 2 people we graduated with are getting married in August. That still kind of blows my mind...I'm getting older, but have I finally reached that age where my peers get married??? WEIRD. I see my twenties as a time of...just floating. My other best friend and I talked about that the other day. While I have to say this the most to myself, I believe that this decade of my life is meant to be about learning, exploring, discovering, and most importantly, messing up. Even though there are plenty of times when I'm so frustrated with myself for not knowing WHAT I WANT TO DO, I need to remember that that's okay. How many people knew what they were going to dedicate themselves to at 23-years-old? Probably not that many. Most people move through jobs, work their way up and through life and everything that comes with it. Sometimes it seems as if every day I wake up with a new mindset. Is it true that as long as you're moving and doing something, you're progressing? Just don't remain idle, just being. An art professor in college once asked us if we were human beings or human doings. I'll let that juicy nugget marinate in your mind for a while...mostly because I need to wrap my head around it myself.

Mom in Cuenca

My fabulous mother did a fabulous thing and made the journey from Philadelphia to Cuenca to see me. I then took this opportunity to get fabulously sick. As in the bucket-by-the-side-of-your-bed sick. To spare the icky details, I must commend my mom for sticking by my side through that 2-day ordeal. I felt terrible (physically) but also emotionally, due to the fact that my mom came all the way to South America to watch me lay in bed for 48 hours. I suppose that's what moms do though, right? They love us and take care of us and want to be with us even when we're not at our best. Thanks mom!

Going to the doctor for a full physical is one of the many things on my list of things to do upon returning home. I fear that the amoeba I detected a few weeks ago in my system has made a comeback, or invited his friends over.

On a more positive note, my mom and I were able to enjoy Cuenca for a few days. We spent a morning riding the city tour bus, which took us around the old and modern parts of Cuenca as well as to the look-out point, Turi. We learned about some cultural history of Cuenca and got some nice photographs for the folks back home. I was also sure to show my mom the bustling markets full of food, clothing, and everything you could possibly never want. We rounded up gifts for family and friends and took advantage of the dry spells during the day, although the rain made many appearances, which was to be expected.

We got a nice treat when we visited Piedra de Agua, a spa in nearby Baños. Some may wonder how great a spa in Ecuador can be, but this was actually very nice. My mother treated herself to a facial, which used volcanic mud, and she was very pleased with it. I joked that she had to travel all the way to Ecuador to get her first facial. As for me, I put a birthday gift to good use, and did the spa circuit with my gift card. My absolute favorite was the mud bath...just soaking in an outdoor mud pit, rubbing volcanic mud all over my skin, which now feels like a baby's bottom. It was great! There were also thermal pools, which were a welcome refuge from the chilly mountain air (not too chilly, but I'm always 20 degrees colder than everyone else.) Technically, I was supposed to sit in the thermal pool for 10 minutes and then switch to the freezing-cold pool for 1 minute. Eh, no thanks. I also bypassed the cold shower part before the steam room, naturally. Even with all of my “cheating” it was a nice way to spend the afternoon, and I'm glad that my mom got some pampering as well. She deserved it more than me.

Her birthday was on Friday (June 13^th) so I surprised her with High Tea at the Alcazar. This is the same mansion/hotel where we celebrated a double birthday (me and my housemate) in February. The gardens are among the best in Cuenca, and the tea was fantastic, complete with the typical dainty food and tea you would probably equate with an English tea. I invited some mature friends to accompany my mom and housemates and me, and it was an unforgettable birthday for my mother. It was certainly something we've never done together before. It was special, as it should have been, for her.

All in all, it was just so great for my mom to finally see and actually live in the place I've called home for the past 9 months. It was difficult being away from my family and familiar surroundings for that length of time, and my mom's never been abroad, so this was a unique experience that we had the privilege of sharing with each other. It's a special bond that just the two of us can share, an eternal link that we'll always remember and have to remind us of all we have to be thankful for. Your mom's still your mom, even when you're on another continent. 

Dia de Nino

Today is the Day of the Child here in Cuenca. I discovered this when I spotted clowns and balloon animals outside. The vast array of ice cream could've been a hint, but ice cream is so commonplace here in Cuenca that I didn't suspect anything. Those Cuencanos love their ice cream...

Anyway, it doesn't surprise me that they have a day dedicated to children; kids seem to be very treasured here. It's a common sight to see toddlers waddling along in child-sized ponchos, or to spot women swooning over their babies, swaddling them in layers of thick fleece blankets. The folks of Cuenca are almost as bad as me: they think it's cold even when it's 70 degrees outside.

On the other hand, I've seen things here that have certainly raised my eyebrows when it comes to childcare in Ecuador. For example, on two occasions, I've seen a woman breast-feeding while riding on a motorcycle. I've also seen a parent allowing their 4-year-old to steer the car in active traffic. And just the other day, my friend saw a man cradling a less than 2-year-old child in one arm while maneuvering a car with his other hand. I'm pretty sure you'd get arrested for that back home.

Even so, children are an important part of life here; families are usually on the larger side, with parents having three or more kids. The times are a-changing, with the more well-off families having two parents working outside the home, leaving the kids freedom to idle around. Among the indigenous and less financially-stable households, children accompany their mothers to work, whether that means sitting on the dusty floor of a mercado, running along the sidewalk while mom tends to the local tienda, or strapped to the mother's back while she sells fruits and vegetables on the corner. The women here have some incredible manner of wrapping a child up and tying them to their backs that I still can't figure out. Somehow the child never falls out of the tied wrap-around shawl, and even more than that, sleeps comfortably! I've also been amazed and saddened by the women who walk around all day long, doing chores and work duties, a child strapped to their backs, while dressed in traditional clothing (full skirt, hat, little high heeled shoes, and sweaters. Some women have bowed legs or serious foot ailments from all of this...

Where are their husbands, you may ask? “Working”...or throwing dice and playing cards.

Also, babying your offspring doesn't end at age 18 like back in the States. Grown men are mama's boys more often than not. It is no big thing to have a 30-something-year-old man go to his mother to ask permission in making some kind of decision, be it leaving the city for a weekend or buying a television or car. I've noticed that male children get special treatment also, with mothers doing laundry, preparing meals, and cleaning up after their sons, while the daughters are stuck helping the mom.

Just another cultural difference I've experienced here in Ecuador. Ever since I made my decision to fulfill my one-year contract and head back home, a wave of relief has washed over me. Don't get me wrong; Ecuador's great, and I'd visit again. I just don't think I'd stay here long-term. It's the perfect place for some people, but not for me. Thinking about it though, I do not regret coming here, not at all, never! This experience has been so wonderful...I've grown in so many ways, and I've learned things here that I would still be mulling over in my head back in the USA. Ecuador is another chapter in my life; a long one that would fall under the category of travel-adventure-turned-memoir-of-a-gringa. 

Parting the clouds

Home. The sound of it lifts the gray veil from before my eyes and I can begin to see more clearly. The past two months are lost in a dingy well that I'm finally beginning to crawl out of. My fingers clutch slimy stones, and the stagnant water has an unpleasant odor, yet I'm going up. Up and up and up. The circular patch of blue sky is growing little by little every day. Still, the thought crosses my mind: how did I even get here?

I arrived here as fresh-faced as a budding spring blossom. Everything was new and stimulating, buzzing with the energy of the yet-to-be-explored. The parade of colorful pollera skirts flashing through the city center rushed brightly past old antique buildings boasting three-tiered balconies and meticulous brickwork. The Old and New Cathedrals graced the city's central park, while people of all kinds shuffled by or lingered around. Young and old alike; local and foreign; rich and poor-all were in abundance. The juxtaposition of Escalades zooming down the cobblestone streets and shoe-shiners sweating over their labor was enough to send a person into a camera-clicking frenzy.

Cuenca had a lot of off, and its proposal was graciously accepted. My English-teaching job led me into the lives of many interesting and memorable people. I've been blessed with some great colleagues and dedicated students. I've known what it feels like to be the profe and receive hugs and praise from students. There have been laughs and jokes and innocent blunders from student and teacher alike that put smiles on many faces. Just as my students learned, I learned as well. I believe we all will never stop ingesting new information, experiences, and lessons.

Some lessons are easily learned; others can be a slap in the face. Accepting the return of an old struggle, confronting the empty pit of longing in my heart for those I love, and very slowly becoming an apprentice of how the world works took me on a journey almost as exotic as the Amazonian jungle. Still, they say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. That phrase is a half-truth in my opinion. Self-starvation may not kill me, God-willing, but it will cause some definite damage. Can I get stronger after that? What if I am starved of what makes me truly happy: my family, my friends, my art, the sun? Spiritual starvation tries to threaten me, so I cling to the book that promises that another home is being prepared for me; a home beyond human comprehension, and so magnificent. This promise keeps me going, but it is no cake-walk, nor just peachy. So maybe I've been thrown some lemons, and maybe I'm making lemonade, and maybe I'm up to my neck in it...but someone keeps tossing out a life vest. And I praise Him for it

Fake it Til You Make it

When you find yourself wallowing in your woes, it’s time to take a step back and give yourself a reality check and define what’s important. I need to filter out what my mind is telling me and focus on what the actual situation is. Let’s see…

            My mind says: You should be with your family right now!

            Reality: That’s not possible, so send them your love via email, Facebook, or Skype. You’ll be home in December.

            My mind says: These student loans need to be deferred again…and, apparently I went delinquent in March. How nice. I’ll be stuck with this debt forever.

           Reality: Almost every college grad is in your shoes! Student debt is not the horrible credit-card kind of debt, so chill. And, you’re technically volunteering in Ecuador, so that might make your deferment have special circumstances. Note to self: call loan company and explain that to them. Also, you’re 23-years-old. You will get rid of your loans. For now, you are going to enjoy your time in South America.

            My mind says: I have to eventually go back to the States and get a “job” job. OH NO!!!

           Reality: Focus on where you are right now. Did you know you’d be in Ecuador teaching English 2 years ago? No. So do you really want to fret about where you’re going to be in 2 years? Not really!

            My mind says: I’M SO EFFING HOMESICK.

           Reality: That’s totally normal. Sorry you feel that way, but you need to deal with that. At least the Internet exists! Instead of focusing on how much you miss people, why don’t you focus on how awesome Ecuador is?

Some cruddy things have been happening, but that’s LIFE. How many people my age can say they’re experiencing something new every day? I mean, in Philadelphia, I could be doing that, but it’s more exciting here! I think my generation has been trained to always think about the future. “What about your future?!?!” Well guess what: the future is not guaranteed, but today is. So make today worth it.

Everyone has bad days. Or weeks. But there is always someone worse off than you! For real.

Some positive thoughts:

               -Teaching is fun! I surprised myself by discovering that my favorite class this cycle is my 101 class of 3 students, aged 11 and 12. I have a blast with them every class. They get a kick out of the English phrase ‘silly goose.’

            -My long-lost sister got in touch with me! Well, not long-lost, but communication between us was just about non-existent. She would like to visit me here soon! Fingers crossed.

            -Today is Ecuador’s Labor Day. NO SCHOOL!

            -I’m in Ecuador.

             -I’m realizing my love of writing. I’ve been scribbling things like crazy these past couple of weeks. This is something I’d like to expand on, job-wise.

Some reflections on Ecuador:

              -Safety does not exist. I saw a mother driving a car with her 3-year-old in her lap, steering the car. This week has also been very treacherous for bike riding. Glad I bought a helmet.

            -The wealth gap is huge here. My students are mostly privileged Cuencanos (although most of them have very good attitudes.) Today, I got approached by a handful of young boys in dirty clothes and with grimy faces, trying to sell me gum or shine my shoes (despite my shoes being worn-out canvas.)

           -The rainy season in Cuenca is in full swing. Glad I bought a rainsuit.

            -They love parades here. For anything.

           -Say goodbye to your Corn Flakes. Imported food products are being banned here for the next 12 months. That’s okay; most of my food comes from the mercados.

            -Toilets flush the other way here.

Cuenca's Foundation Day

Saturday was Cuenca’s Foundation Day. According to my research, Cuenca was founded on April 12, 1557 by Gil Ramírez Dávalos. The city was named after Cuenca, Spain. Cuenca was originally a Cañari region called Guapondeleg (the Cañari are an indigenous group in Ecuador) but was conquered by the Incas. Cañari and Incan influences are still seen throughout the area today (architecture, agricultural customs.) The Incas renamed the city Tomebamba, and became known as the second Cusco! Today, the Tomebamba is one of the four rivers of Cuenca.

In 1557, Ramírez Dávalos founded Cuenca with the Spanish settlement. The city was founded after Quito and Guayaquil (the other 2 principal cities in Ecuador) but Cuenca grew to prominence during the colonial era, and today the city lures tourists from all over for its old-school charm.

Saturday, celebrations were in full swing with many things to see. I shopped til I dropped with my housemates, scouring the tents vendors set up along the river. Consumers could choose from clothing, jewelry, jigsaw puzzles, kitchenware, shoes, artisan crafts, musical instruments, furniture, paintings, and more…

The weather was also absolutely gorgeous, so I spent the afternoon soaking up the sun. Plans are underway for an Easter potluck at my house. I am going to make my “famous” guacamole, some flavored popcorn, and Rocky Road (courtesy of my friend’s recipe.) On Friday, 3 friends and I are going to Saraguro, about 2 hours away, for an overnight stay. Acknowledged for its beadwork and textiles, Saraguro will be a nice getaway on the cheap.

I have also given myself a transformation. It’s been an eventful weekend, filled with a new haircut, eyebrow waxing (I don’t want to do that again) and a makeup tutorial. I felt like a 13-year-old, hovering over the bathroom sink while my friend showed me how to put on mascara. Well, the result is nice. I think I now finally look my age! Will attach photos on the Photos page.

So I finally look 23, although I’ve been feeling pretty mature lately. What if I stay here? Or at least come back? There are so many more places I want to see in the world, and it makes me feel so blessed that I even have that opportunity. Wow. What did I do to deserve such a life? More importantly, how can I use it to better this world I’ve been born into? Teaching English is nice, and I like informing people back home about this tiny country tucked into the western edge of South America. Most people wouldn’t even give Ecuador a single thought, but this country has a lot of richness. I’ve learned to make do with only what I need, to step back and listen to other points of view and ways of life, and that even if we speak different languages, we can still communicate in various ways.

Oh! I am also published! Officially published on www.4rios4artes.ec. Woot woot! I even have my own business cards, what!

Puerto Lopez and Teaching: Take 3

The short break between teaching cycles was well-spent on a short stint in Puerto Lopez. I was accompanied by two friends/housemates/fellow teachers, and we met up with another teacher friend in Puerto Lopez. It was 3 days of sun, sea breeze, and relaxation.

We stayed at La Hosteria Mandala, a gem in the rather hum-drum, dumpy Puerto Lopez. I suppose the town is a typical beach town in Ecuador: impromptu soccer games in the sand, a coastline brimming with bars and seafood shacks, and the local residents lounging in hammocks 24/7. There seemed to be no work ethic, apart from the crew manning the hostel we briefly called home. The Mandala was wonderful. The food, the staff, the 5 resident (huge) dogs, the building itself; everything was top-notch. We stayed in the Tortuga (turtle) room, which was very comfortable and nestled in the garden area that houses the other rooms. The hostel has a nice restaurant, a game room, music room, book exchange, and beautiful artwork all throughout the premises. Owned by a Swiss/Italian couple, the hostel has bits of their essence sprinkled around the place: the music room houses exotic instruments from their travels, the restaurant includes charming accent salt/pepper shakers and the paintings and art projects that abound are a delight. The Mandala also works for a Save the Whales foundation, and tries to inform the public about the massive sea creatures and the danger they’re in. Clearly, the Mandala was our home away from home during our stay on the coast. Also, the receptionist, Jill, became a good friend as she helped us out with anything we needed. She was a blast to be around, and she spoke 8 (!) languages.

One of our days in Puerto Lopez took us to Isla de la Plata (also known as The Poor Man’s Galapagos.) For $40 a person, we took a boat ride to the island, were provided lunch, and hiked the island, observing some of the wildlife. Isla de la Plata is of course no Galapagos (no giant tortoises here) but it’s a nice and affordable alternative. Our excursion was a nice getaway from the mainland. The boat ride to Isla de la Plata lasts about an hour and a half (in motorboat) and the hikes last 2 or more hours, depending on which trail you take. Each trail gives you a different view of the island, and exposure to varying wildlife. On our hike, we saw the famous blue-footed boobies, which despite their lackluster lifestyle were a highlight for most of us. We were joined by 3 French women, a German family, another CEDEI teacher and her good friend, and a graduate student from St. Louis and her boyfriend from Guayaquil. Those two were doing research on a fly found in the Galapagos Islands that may be parasitic to the fauna there. Wow! Our tour guides were fabulous; very sociable and knowledgeable of the Isla. At times I got to work as a Spanish-English translator, which was kind of cool.

Back on the mainland, we spent our final day visiting Los Frailes, a pristine beach about 15 minutes away in motor taxi. We got a bad taste of super laid-back island life when we got overcharged for a ride in a taxi (which is basically a cart attached to a motorcycle) which was hauling some trays of fish (stinky!) and making unnecessary pit stops along the way to Los Frailes. Eh, what are you gonna do? When in Ecuador…

Sunday morning, we had to wake up at 3:30am to catch a cab to Olón (40 minutes away) where we could catch a bus to Guayaquil. From Guayaquil, another bus would take us to Cuenca. Total trip time was about 8 ½ hours. We had to be back in Cuenca for a 3:00pm mandatory meeting to receive our new teaching schedules. Bus rides can be hit-or-miss. On the way to Puerto Lopez, we had a nice luxury bus from Cuenca to Guayaquil…lots of leg room, A/C, clean and efficient. Our change-over in Guayaquil was a different story. The man at the ticket counter swindled us (but what could we do when he wouldn’t give us our bus tickets and just kept yelling at us in an indecipherable coastal accent?) We rode from Guayaquil to Puerto Lopez on the JipiJapa bus, which had no ventilation and brakes that were smoking. Quite an adventure; I was seated next to a young guy with a 20-day-old puppy in a cardboard box. If I thought I was sweating, I can’t imagine how the poor animal felt. Our bus trip coming back to Cuenca was better, although once we got into El Cajas (about 45 minutes outside of Cuenca) we came across a few landslides from saturated mountains. If it weren’t for a restaurant with a parking lot that was miraculously situated right next to a huge pile of debris, we would’ve had to dig ourselves out of the mess!

Safely back in Cuenca, we had about an hour and a half to rest up before heading to our teachers meeting at the CEDEI. This cycle I made out with 4 classes: a regular 302, 104, and 101, and a Saturday 101. I was initially a little bummed to receive so many 100-level classes (I think they’re a bit dull) but it all turned out to be okay. I enjoy all of my classes, and I don’t have a single troublemaker! Also, I’m actually deciding to be a teacher this cycle, and my housemates are amazed at the amount of time I spend lesson-planning. I must admit, last cycle was crummy due to the fact that I was so lazy. Teaching is much more enjoyable now that I know exactly what I’m going to do when I walk into the classroom. Teacher life: If only we got paid for the time we spend working outside the classroom. My respect for (decent) teachers has gone up considerably. I taught my first Saturday class of the cycle yesterday, and it went great. 10 students, adults, kids, and teens, but they work well with each other. It’s a bit hard to make the alphabet and numbers 1-10 exciting, but with some extra prep, it’s possible. It’s nice having students who actually want to learn.

Here in Cuenca, we’re in the rainy season. I wonder what’s going on back home…I suppose everyone’s starting to get spring fever. I love this time of year back home; the first day of Spring when everyone gets free water ice, the opening day of baseball season, the 2-week window when my Dad’s pink bushes in the front yard bloom. They’re so beautiful for those 14 brief days; only to wither and spend the next year on hiatus. Makes you appreciate their exquisiteness even more. That’s what I’m trying to do with my life here in Ecuador. Sure, there are times when I just shake my head, and groan “only in Ecuador.” Yet, every day is an opportunity to learn, grow, experience…to appreciate this phase of my life where I’m developing into my own in so many ways. Maybe I have days where it’s as if I’ve taken a hiatus from life, but there are also those days when I blossom into the young woman I’m becoming.

Therapy with Norm

Just when I want to curl into a ball, hide under a blanket the size of an ocean, and forget about the world, I decide instead to let Norm help me.

He knows how to just listen. I can take all of my frustrations out on him. He takes the brunt of my anger, fear, hopelessness…and in his own quiet way; he’ll challenge me to suck it up. Or pedal faster.

Norm’s my bike, if you haven’t caught on. We’ve gotten very close in the past 6 months. At times he acts like a child, losing a part here, jamming his chain there. Other times, he acts like a close friend, helping me escape when I’m just about up to my neck in problems. He’s my baby, plain and simple. Some people have their cars, or their pets, or a vacuum clean perhaps. I have Norm.

I really needed him today. I’ve hit the half-a-year homesickness checkpoint, and there was a delay in pulling out of the station. This past week, I’ve been bombarded with thoughts and reminders of people back home, mainly, my best friends. Coming from a family that’s not super lovey-dovey, I don’t get many “We miss you! Come back home!” messages. As long as I’m alive and well, that’s sufficient.

Add that to the fact that I hadn’t heard from my best, best friend for almost 2 months, and I was feeling pretty low. In her defense, she says she hadn’t received my messages for some weird reason. I’m telling myself that’s the truth, because I had a good cry this morning, just thinking that most people took the “out of sight, out of mind” approach to my new life in Ecuador.

After a second round of tears today, I turned to Norm. Take me somewhere, anywhere! So I pedaled and pedaled and got lost for a bit, then found my way back home. The stress seeped down from my cranium, through my arms, and down into my burning legs, which just kept going and going and going. Norm loved it; no words needed, just pedal to the metal, and we were off. Fueled by womanpower, we trekked through the ‘burbs of Cuenca, and slowly but surely, my worries and concerns blew away with the breeze brushing against my face.

Okay, so maybe I have a somewhat obsessive relationship with my bike, but it beats shelling out my well-earned dough for some stranger to listen to me weep on their sofa. I bet that sofa wouldn’t even be comfortable. It’d probably be some microfiber aqua-colored get-up that only looks chic but feels like crap. J Look! I’m feeling better enough to crack jokes!

Everyone has their way to deal with problems; A.K.A. life. Some people are perfectly fine sitting on a couch and spilling their guts. Others journal. Some talk to their best buds about it. There are those who turn to their faith for consolation. Personally, I prefer a combination of all of these things.

Nobody said life was easy. I believe life can be great! But great isn’t the same as easy. Everyone faces the highs and the lows. When you’re far away from the people you care most about, it can be disorienting. Yet, in a way, I suppose it’s making me stronger. Anyway, I’ve got a lot to be thankful for; the list keeps growing every day.

You can bet that Norm’s on the list.

Kiss Me, I'm Not Cuencana

With the little Irish blood I have, Happy St. Patrick’s Day. With the non-existent Ecuadorian blood I have, Felíz Día de San Patricio.

The past few days have been eventful in my own weird way. This month’s First Friday Art featured a local artist who makes a lot of street art in Cuenca. In fact, I was astounded when I recognized a piece in his portfolio…it was the mural I’ve seen in a woman’s house! The woman who owns Ginger, the dog I walk three times a week, has a huge mural in her dining room, and it was painted by this artist. What’s more, the dog in the mural is Ginger herself, so I know a famous dog. Ha-ha.

Anyway, I truly enjoyed his art, and we had a nice conversation at his exhibition. I love when an artist is so passionate about their work, and this man was so enthralled by what he does that talking to him had me somewhat entranced. I also met an expat woman who manages an online arts magazine. When I told her that I like to sketch, paint, and write, we really hit it off, and she offered me a monthly column to write about the First Friday artists! I met up with the artist for an interview and a little city tour of his work; it was great!

In other news, I finally made it to a dentist’s office. It was actually a dental student, I was referred to him by someone in the CEDEI (the school I work at.) I ended up there the first time to accompany my friend, who had a dental emergency (a piece of her tooth fell out!) I scheduled an appointment for a cleaning with the dentist, and he told me I had 4  -count ‘em, 4-    cavities. What the heck? I’ve had maybe one in my lifetime, and my last cleaning was in the summer before I left. I was in serious doubt, but then he showed me pictures using some mouth camera, and I saw dark spots on my teeth, but I’m no dentist. It could be nothing for all I know.

I talked to the other teachers who’ve been to this dentist. I got super scared, especially after hearing that the dental tools smelled strange and used, and a teacher said that even after her cleaning, her mouth still felt plaque-y. Also, I witnessed the dentist work on my friend’s mouth, go open a door (with his gloves on) and then proceed to stick them back in my friend’s mouth. The office also doesn’t have a receptionist or dental nurse, just two guys. And they keep their appointments in a simple notebook (they take your name only.) So…I am not going back there. I did ask one of my students (who is also studying dentistry) to look in my mouth, and she said I had cavities. Now I have an appointment at the end of the week with a dentist who speaks English and treats lots of gringos. She comes recommended, so I feel better. Believe me, it’s intimidating to sit in a dentist’s chair, only half-comprehending what he’s saying (I don’t know much dental vocab in Spanish) and be told he has to drill 4 holes in your teeth.

There is something to celebrate though, and that’s the end of classes! I only have one more Saturday to teach, and I’m not even really teaching, just giving a final exam. Cue the evil laughter. I’m very determined to be a kick-butt teacher next cycle. I’m not going to lie: I’ve been lazy the last few weeks. In the fact that I go to work, open the book in front of my students, and right then and there decide what I’m going to do. Really bad, I know. Things are very laid-back here; we don’t really get evaluated, and there is no set structure to follow, just the books, which, to their credit, are chock-full of activities and such. I guess that’s Ecuador for ya.

For one thing, Ecuadorian internet service stinks! We’re with ETAPA, and had to whine about screwy service for 3 weeks until anything happened. Days were spent waiting around the house for the technicians to come. “Manaña, manaña…” Everyone knows manaña here doesn’t mean tomorrow. Even so, things have finally been patched up.

I also got wise and finally bought myself a helmet. I’d been warned by my friend (“Your parents would be so pissed if you died!”) and I witnessed a hit-and-run last week, which is quite a common occurrence, since in Ecuador you are guilty until proven innocent. It shook me up, and I called the police and stayed with the victim until an ambulance came. He was conscious, but looked in a lot of pain, obviously. There’s not really a culture of bicyclists here, but things are improving slowly. Cuenca is getting more bike paths, but motorists are really disrespectful. If I bike on the sidewalk, the pedestrians yell at me. If I bike in the street, the cars honk at me. Until I sprout wings, I must deal. And wear a helmet. At least I feel safer now, traversing and getting lost in Cuenca.

I love that feeling…exploring unknown territory, losing my bearings, but always finding my way back home. It’s fun to do this in regards to my physical location, but also metaphorically…I mean, I’ve put myself in this situation where I’m living and working in a foreign country, sometimes struggling to communicate, and addressing cultural and social norms that aren’t at all normal to me. It’s a blast. I recommend it to everyone.

Not-So-Crazy Carnaval

     We survived Carnaval. Really, there wasn’t much to fear, because in Cuenca, most people scuttle off to the beach or to the nearby towns, such as Gualaceo or Chordeleg. So Cuenca is almost a ghost-town, with the occasional blast from a water gun or shot of espuma (foam.)

     I was just excited to have a little vacation from classes! Friday through Tuesday, I was free to do as I pleased! It was nice to have a few days where I had no obligations, although on Friday night, I subbed for my friend’s class. It was a nice deal because I only had to do some review and give a Mid-Term exam.

     Most of the long weekend was spent relaxing indoors, to avoid getting attacked by avid Carnaval participants. One day, while riding through the center of town, I got blasted by some kids with espuma; it was actually pretty funny because I was on my bike and caught totally unaware, but it made me laugh. I’d rather have the foam (even if it stained my skin slightly blue) than the water. Cuenca’s up in the Sierra, not on the coast; it’s too cold to be drenching people with water, even though the weather can go into the 70s.

     Apart from Carnaval, I met a nice little girl one day while waiting for some friends. Her name was Camila, an eight-year-old Ecuadorian girl who intrigued and amused me. Not being much of a kid person, I watched her for a few minutes and realized she must have been extremely bored; a little girl sitting out in a plaza with no other kids in sight. This is common in Ecuador; kids don’t have computers or videogames to keep them occupied. Rather, they’re usually meandering along sidewalks outside their homes or their parents’ business, playing with sticks, stones, paper, leaves, whatever. Kids use their imagination to the fullest here, it’s refreshing to see. On the other hand, it can be quite a shock to walk past the very young kids in markets or on street corners while the mothers sell fruits and vegetables. I’ve come to associate Ecuador with stark contrasts…I teach some very privileged, upper-class kids (my 12-year-old student had a Playstation 4 before I even knew it existed,) and I also mingle with the modest Ecuadorians as well, usually dressed in the traditional, indigenous clothing. Anyway, this little girl and I kicked around a soccer ball for about a half-hour, then chit-chatted in Spanish about where I was from and what I'm doing here.

     It’s things like this that make me want to experience life abroad with the people I care about most: my parents, my sister, my best friends. It’s such a bummer to return from an exciting, far-away trip only to realize that nobody back home really cares. And it’s the truth. It’s terribly difficult to appreciate an experience that you yourself haven’t had…personally, I love hearing about people’s excursions to different countries or places I’ve never been to, but I’m one of a handful, I think. Most of the time, people would rather discuss something relevant to everyone, not just that one person who did this, or went there. Maybe they perceive it as showing off or something. I don’t see it that way. I want to learn through others, sometimes that’s the only way to do it. Maybe I’ll never get to Kenya or Tibet (I’d love to,) but hearing about these places through someone who has been there would help me explore them more. Anyway, all of this contemplating has got me now wondering: Who actually reads this blog? How many people are genuinely interested in it? In my adventures and my thoughts? Oh well, if anything, this blog’s a nice writing exercise…

Birthday in Cuenca

“I feel so loved.” I said that about 4 times (genuinely) yesterday. It was my first birthday abroad, and it was wonderful! I was surrounded by great friends, good vibes, and so much joy; I think the happiness beams were just shooting out of my body!

Since my birthday fell on a Saturday, I had to teach. I didn’t mind, because I adore my Saturday class: 2 girls who are stellar students. It’s very easy to work with them, and they even got me a cake! That was the beginning of my all-day sugar rush.

Part 2 of the celebration was a lunch date with a friend at Sports Planet, a restaurant/bar where as the birthday girl, I got a free menu item. We noshed on nachos, followed by a complimentary ice cream, which we shared.

The grand event was High Tea at the Alcazar hotel. This gem of a place is nestled among the craziness of downtown Cuenca, but once you walk through the glass doors, you are transported to a wonderland of shiny chandeliers, gurgling fountains, majestic statues, and lush gardens. Our soiree was housed in a pergola in the garden, and the image of the sun shining through the glass walls, glinting off the china and teacups, is plastered to my brain. I’ve never taken part in anything like this…fancy marmalades, sweet breads, fine tea, and dainty hor d’oeuvres. Was this Ecuador or the Queen’s Palace in England? It was 2 hours of pure bliss and luxury; I’m quite thankful to have had that experience. The thanks really go to my two very good friends, Lynne and Eileen for organizing that extravaganza. These two women are more than friends, they’re my beacons of light when I’m weathering stormy seas; they’re stable supports when I’m stumbling through the obstacles of life; they’re my partners in crime when we’re gallivanting through a culture that sometimes confuses (or amuses) us. They’re family now, whether they like it or not!

A bonus to the garden bash was that Lynne’s birthday was the day before mine, so our High Tea was a double-celebration. All-in-all, it was a whimsical afternoon spent with a group of outstanding women and friends. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I guess I should say Gracias. Gracias. Gracias. Even if you took away the fancy food, the elegant setting, and the extremely generous gifts (did I deserve all of that?) the people made the occasion special. And you know what? I’m realizing that as I get older, life keeps getting better. We’ll see if I say the same thing in a couple of decades!

New New New!

So sorry about the lack of update lately; things have been happening and time has been flying by so quickly. Where to begin…

New Year, new house, new teaching cycle, new adventures!

My New Years was spectacularly unexciting; I fell asleep before Midnight, as is my style. Even so, I did venture out that night to take in all of the sights that Cuenca had to offer. That included giant dummies and structures that different neighborhoods built in the streets to later set on fire. Also, it is customary for men and boys to dress as women, hold a rope across the street to block traffic, and demand money from stopped cars. This is actually an accepted stunt in Cuenca; the back-story is that the men are widows, asking for money from passersby to send their husbands to the afterlife. Everyone pretty much plays along with this, donating some monedas to the men/widows, although I did witness some motorists just speed through without paying. Other New Year’s traditions here include wearing yellow underwear on New Year’s Eve (for good luck), eating 12 grapes at Midnight, and running around the block with a suitcase (for good luck in travel.) Also, the giant dummies, or Años Viejos are burned in the street. Sometimes these dummies represent a family member to bring them good luck in the New Year; other times the dummies are popular characters such as the Hulk, Bart Simpson, or Spiderman. It's quite a sight to see all of these figures displayed along the sidewalks!

A few days after New Year’s, I said farewell to the Albright group; I hope to see them here again next January. This January just flew by without me realizing it. We’ve jumped into a new teaching cycle, and the second time around seems easier than the first. I've got two 102-level classes, one of which is full of 11 pre-teens. Let's just say a "Behavior Chart" had to be implemented. My Saturday class is a very chill 201-level class of 2 wonderful students. And I've got a 204-level of 3 students, one of which is an amateur magician! I'm really enjoying my job, and after some contemplation, I decided that I’m not ready to leave in June. I spoke to my boss about staying longer, and she approved. So the plan now is to stay until June 2015. There will most likely be a trip back to the USA between now and then, although I don’t know when. I’m happy, I’m working, and I’m in LATIN AMERICA. Why leave so soon?

2014 has been bringing wonderful things…I have embraced Christianity, and found that I have been more than welcomed into the community. I attend Sunday service every week with 2 good friends (and fellow teachers) and every week I learn something new and am enlightened more and more. An emotional prayer request was met with so much support I was brought to tears. A weekly Bible study has thrust me into even more discovery, and while it’s super-difficult for me (I attended several years of after-school Catholic education, but haven’t retained anything,) the study is great.

On top of that, I am in a new home! I am living with 2 fabulous teachers, one of whom is planning on staying here for the long-term. The house is huge, out of the city center (I wake up hearing birds, not traffic,) and it’s in a very nice neighborhood. It’s a healthy environment, with friends who genuinely care about me. Needless to say, I’m thrilled to be here. I am trying to use the new house as an incentive for my family to visit. I’d love, love, love for my mom or dad or sister or all of them to come here and see what makes me so passionate about Spanish and travelling. I want to take them around the centro, to eat an humita, to browse the mercados, to marvel at the view of the Andes that I still gasp at on a regular basis. To bring them to my class and have them see me in teaching action, to have them hear me converse in Spanish with the locals. To have them be proud of me for heading to South America to pursue a crazy dream.

Anyway, yesterday was the first Friday of the month, which meant First Friday Art. It’s become a tradition between my friend and I to hang out and then head to the monthly art exhibition. This month’s artist was a 21-year-old Cuencano (whom I almost hit up for his phone number.) His paintings were impressionist oils that depicted scenes of Cuenca (the rivers, bridges, and cropland.) They were gorgeous, and he had sold quite a few! To be so talented and successful at such a young age; jeez, where’s my sketchbook? It’s time to get to work!

Speaking of artistic pursuits, I met up with a good friend today for some lunch and ice cream and some good ol’ chitchat. She’s a writer, and we came up with the idea to email each other writing pieces every 2 weeks. We’ve both been lagging behind on our creative outbursts, and this will be nice, to hold each other accountable for producing something creative from time to time. This will help me develop some characters and ideas for the comic book my best friend and I want to create (we dream big!) And I can also use these writings to give me inspiration for sketches. If anything cool transpires from this, I’ll post it to the blog. And now that my goal is posted on the internet, I guess I have to follow through, eh?

Thanks for hanging in with me on this post; I know it was a long one, but a lot has happened, and once I get going it’s hard to stop. All good things, and until next time, ¡hasta luego!