One Year In

If the conversation rolls on long enough, a group of gringos in Ecuador will eventually, certainly, turn toward that most elusive of things missed: American food. “Sub sandwiches, mmm, what I’d give for a ‘five-dollar-footlong,’” John says to me. I join in with, “Mmm, Mexican food, an arm-sized carne asada burrito with real hot sauce would be awesome right now.” Laurel chimes in, “Pizza Port, with a really hoppy beer,” – “Nice!” I say, “I forgot about Pizza Port.” Then John puts on the finishing touch, “I got it: not just Taco Bell, but late night Taco Bell – you know what I’m talkin’ about.” And Indian food and sushi always seem to make the list as well.

We could have begun that conversation on any topic.

Laurel and I have reached the one year mark, in-country. Aside from the many things we miss about home, there are also things here we’ve grown to love. It’s how we reconcile these two worlds we straddle that will define the memory of our experiences here in years to come. Those who started their conversations with the topic of American food (instead of ending them that way) have already departed. Of the 44 people from our training class a year ago, 33 remain. Of course, there are other things about the comfort of our home country that infuse conversations with a sense of excitement. Driving would top my list; I can’t believe it’s been a year since I drove a car. Over the winter months many people missed their white Christmases. Family and friends are mentioned regularly as well, but for those of us who’ve made it this far, we know there’s a time and a place for that kind of nostalgia.

Because of where we are in our service now, many of the things that currently happen in our daily life are only regarded in passing, like small talk about the weather (this is actually one of my favorite topics of conversation in the rainforest). I think we know, however, that it is these things that happen here that will fill long conversations with friends, family, and reunited fellow volunteers once we’re back in the bosom of the places we used to call home. Among those topics are the usual funny stories that are born of any situation; then, there are the stories and the lessons learned that only come from firsthand experience in such an unknown place—a place we may never visit again—no matter how sure we are right now that we will.

Our blog has attempted to catalog the more memorable events that have shaped our experiences in Ecuador thus far. Now, as we hit the hump of our tour, fewer things surprise us, fewer things seem noteworthy and it seems we’ve all fastened ourselves to a groove of living full of familiarity. One day, a little over a year from now, we’ll all look forward to another great adventure – moving to the United States. Now that sounds fun.

As for now, Laurel and I can look back at a year that was full of language and cultural investigation. We’ve learned that humor and the form of a conversation are actually quite different from culture to culture. We’ve seen our own language through a different lens and learned just how well people can be understood with the subtlest hint of a word. We’ve seen proof that The Hoff really is a big deal to Germans and Jean-Claude Van Damme is the king of cinema in some parts of the world where translated subtitles effectively screen out the cheese from his one-liners.

Our stomachs have been strengthened by exotic parasites and a blitz of bacteria. Our bodies are almost completely bug-bite free (not from lack of bug-bites but from our body’s ability to recover more quickly now). We are aware of which insects bite and which are harmless. We’ve grown to appreciate the mystery meat and left over pieces of gristle in our soup and we can all say a few things in Kichwa to make the locals smile at a gringo’s effort to give a damn.

In our city, we know just about every major business owner and restaurateur. We know where to get the best fruit and the freshest meat. We know who sells beer 33% cheaper, and we’re beginning to feel, instinctively, when a community fiesta should be coming up on the horizon (they’re so frequent here).

And, in a couple of weeks some of us will take a few days to go back to Cayambe (our training site in the Sierra) to give some advice to the new group of volunteer trainees that just arrived. (In May, our cluster will welcome a newbie from this class, so if anyone has any good hazing ideas I’m open to suggestions.)

The next year – I know – will fly by. I can almost feel myself worrying about finishing my projects before we head to the airport in May 2011. On the agenda are many more trips to far-out jungle communities to continue to assist in eco-tourism projects. I will also spend many more days sitting at my desk compiling data and analyzing the results. And, there will be yet another San Pedro anniversary party, San Juan Festival, Cacao Fair, Christmas and New Years, and all the late night conversations with friends in between. Donovan’s Steakhouse will probably make an appearance in these conversations but I foresee we’ll begin discussing a topic that hasn’t seemed necessary up to this point – the fact that we’ll all surely miss this place when we’re gone. The heat, the bugs, the fact that there are never any tiendas in this town that can make change for a ten dollar bill – one day it’ll just be something to laugh about. The smells of the rainforest, the rush of comfort that comes with a downpour, the bright smiles in the street and a cold Pilsener on a hot Friday afternoon by the river with Laurel, John and Ben – laughing at the latest funny text from Grigs or Ian: it’s these things that will come at the end of conversations one day.