Voluntary Simplicity

Married in the Peace Corps

2011-02-22T10:50:00.006-05:00

The most common question I receive from PCVs and non-PCV alike is “What’s it like being a married volunteer?” It isn’t that I don’t like answering the same question over and over again (for instance, the daily ritual of taxi drivers asking me if I’m married, if my husband is Ecuadorian, if we have kids yet, etc. has gotten old, but I’m used to it) but I figured I’d address everyone, since it seems to be such a popular question. World-wide, approximately 10% of Peace Corps Volunteers are married, and I think the percentage in Ecuador is even smaller, so hopefully this addresses the most salient points. I’d love to hear from other married volunteers out there, to see if their experiences have been different.

Generally, being a married volunteer is pretty awesome. It comes with all kinds of perks and benefits that make life here in Ecuador that much sweeter. Probably the most apparent is the loneliness factor. Showing up with your very own spouse means no waiting until Halloween in Cuenca/Thanksgiving in Macas/New Years in Puerto Lopez to find a warm body, no venturing into the tricky intercultural exchange that is trying to maintain a relationship with that cute Ecuadorian who lives in your site, no need for visiting the dubious section of the DVD stores, and no pestering from community members to make a trip to that sketchy building on the outside of town.

As a woman, already being married has had several perks here in Ecuador. Of course there is the nifty benefit of giving me a simple and easily-understood reason for turning away potential suitors without (much) harassment. (It helps in this instance to have [as I do] a particularly large husband who can look menacing if need be.) But it also provides me an excellent talking point with men and women alike. Since the third question I’m always asked is “Do you have kids?” I am able to either a) give an impromptu charla on reproductive health and how it is ok to wait on having children and plan your family, or b) garner pity/sympathy when I respond with an Un día, Sí Dios quiere.

More importantly, though, serving with my husband has the enormous benefit of having someone to talk to at the end of the day – and saving me on saldo. When I hit the bottom of the U-curve and lose patience with my co-workers or just have an overwhelming bout of homesickness, I don’t need to spend away my monthly allowance on Porta recargas – I can just head home and vent, unfettered by the concern of running out of minutes and being cut off mid-gripe. (In full disclosure, I’m just kidding about the saldo thing. Serving with a spouse is far more elaborate and meaningful than just having someone to complain to at the end of the day. Plus, I’m an ECC and never use up all my saldo.)

In all seriousness, it has been immeasurably helpful to have someone there to listen and commiserate at the end of a bad day or week. Or month. So helpful, in fact, I occasionally wonder to myself if I would have even made it a whole two years here without his support. I have infinite respect for single volunteers, for their perseverance and ability to cope with a crushing loneliness that it is hard to imagine. No joke.

It isn’t always all it is cracked up to be, however. There are a few drawbacks that I’ve found, reasons why it is (occasionally) more difficult to be a married PCV. Primarily, integration is undeniably more challenging. Since I have a husband to go home to, no kindly older woman is offering to cook me dinner or invite me over to chat, just because. It is assumed that I go home and make my man a nice hearty meal and clean our home. Yeah, for the most part, that is what happens (ok, I don’t actually do all that much of the cleaning), but it doesn’t change the fact that time that would be spent at the end of the work day with community members or co-workers (if I were a single PCV) is actually spent in my apartment, perusing our cook book -Buen Provecho, discussing our future (in English), watching movies (in English), or gossiping about our neighbors/officemates/fellow PCVs (in English).

This leads to the other major drawback of being a married couple in Peace Corps: stunted Spanish-speaking prowess. While you are out there learning slang with the jovenes or the language of amor with your cross-cultural love interest, we’re slipping behind, stagnant in all but work-related vocabulary. I feel comfortable with my ability to discuss Geographic Information Systems and national park management at length, but throw me a ¡que huevado! or a text message that looks like a monkey got a hold of the cell phone, and I’m left scratching my head. I suppose in the long run, not knowing the intricacies of Ecuadorian slang will probably have little bearing on my ability to successfully conduct myself as a bilingual human being, but for now I feel dolefully inadequate and would appreciate it if my fellow volunteers could provide me with subtitles when hurling what I can only assume are expletives at the other “cool” volunteers.

In the could-go-either-way column, being a married PCV means I see a whole lot more of my husband than I ever did in the US. While working 40-60 hour-a-week jobs and commuting an hour to and from our offices ever day (in opposite directions), we didn’t get a whole lot of time to see one another. Throw in a 2-3 day business trip every month and I’m spending more time with my co-workers than with my significant other. By contrast, we now work in the same office and our daily commute is shared. I actually worked out the math on this, and by calculating hours of face time here versus hours of face time back in the US, I found that each year of being in Peace Corps is the face time equivalent of 3.1 years of time back home. So instead of feeling like we’ve been married for 3.5 years at the end of our service, it will actually feel more like 8 years – face time-wise.

The reason that this is in the could-go-either-way column is because on the one hand it means that I actually get to see my husband. It has been incredible to be able to share our experience and strengthen our relationship. And in a way, I feel that couples who never do something as intense as Peace Corps may take 20 years get to the emotional levels that we have achieved being here (in the same way that people who have never been PCVs will not understand each of our individual plights). On the other hand, I miss missing him. I had really gotten to enjoy his monthly business trips and the subsequent solitude, followed by joyful anticipation of his return. But ultimately I suppose we’ll have plenty of opportunities for business trips again in the future, so I embrace the final few months of 24/7 togetherness that we have left.

The bottom line for me is that serving as a married PCV, I got to bring my best friend along with me, to share in all the ups and downs that come with our lives here. Maybe I didn’t write down as many memories as I should have because he was already there to discuss; maybe I could have formed closer friendships with my co-workers and neighbors. But being one of the married PCVs is great for the same reason that being married is great: your partner is an unwavering witness to your life. And I wouldn’t have done it any other way.

Olvidarse

2011-02-02T16:19:00.009-05:00

Someone famous once said that you should always begin (or was it end?) your writings with a quote. Come to think of it, I believe it was Ed Norton’s character from American History X -- or maybe it was his kid brother? Anyway, doesn’t matter. I’m really more of a paraphraser, myself.

I’m going to come right out and say it: I have a mind like a colander. Seriously, I have a horrible memory. It’s genetic. Names, dates, faces – you name it. Well, actually, that’s the thing: If you name it, it will probably ring a bell and I will be able to conjure something up. But coming up with something out of thin air – forget about it. Seriously, I mean I probably did.

I have always been jealous of those folks who remember everything, the photographic memory types. It seems infinitely unfair that people like my friend Joey can remember details from the conversation we had the night we met in the dorms freshman year, and I can’t even remember his mom’s name (sorry Joey’s mom!). Now Joey is Dr. Joey, MD and I, well, I am Laurel, PCV. (Tangentially, it has been increasingly weird as more of my friends have become doctors and lawyers and other professionals. I know it has been years since I saw them drunk at a party or passed out on their couch the morning after, but it still seems to me that at least doctors should have been goody two-shoes in college.)

I don't want to forget

So remembering things has never been my strong suit, but usually I can get by with logic and my finely honed BS-ing abilities. I make lots of lists to keep myself sane, but sometimes I forget to check the lists. There is a good chance I’ll ask you where you’re from several times before I think too much time has passed in our relationship and I can’t ask anymore without looking like a total jerk, and then resign myself to assuming you are from wherever you appear to be from (which also makes me look like a jerk). Occasionally I try using mnemonic devices, but if I forget the device I devised I feel doubly silly. I can never remember song lyrics unless they are from albums that I memorized in middle or high school.

For forgetful people like me and my mom, the internet is a game changer. When my mom was in Catholic school as a child, she figured God was the only one who could answer all her questions. Now the all-powerful search engine outpaces the divine. In my case, living in Ecuador and not having constant, 24/7/365 internet access means that I no longer have my crutch, The Google, to rely on when my memory fails. Which is tough when I feel the need to look up important things, like how long to boil hard boiled eggs and who the actor was that played so-and-so on West Wing.

I’m not a total ditz. I’ve got my stuff together. I like to think I’ve done alright for myself despite my mediocre memory. Ok so maybe I can’t remember birthdays or movie titles or the end of my sentence, but I can do other stuff, like

It isn’t all jokes though, if I may be serious for a moment. When my parents came to visit us in Tena, my mom was driving me, and especially my husband, absolutely nuts by taking pictures every two minutes. She’s taking pictures of the hostel room and the dog outside and the kids on our street and us getting into the cab and her lunch and my lunch and this river and the other river and the monkey and the bird and so on and so on until my sweet husband (who had been graciously biting his tongue) rolls his eyes and I decide to say something. Do you have to take pictures of EVERYTHING, Mom? And then she breaks my heart. She has to take pictures, she says, because otherwise she will forget. I realize I should be taking more pictures, too. Our lives here feel so vivid and our memories so clear -- how could I possibly forget? -- but they won’t always be. It will be over before we know it.

Maybe you aren’t as forgetful as I am or maybe you have been better about keeping track of the daily crazy that is just being here. Maybe you think it isn’t all that important. For me it is. So do me a favor, or two. Give me the benefit of the doubt when I can’t remember what city you are from or ask you three times what the plan is for the evening. But also, take pictures and notes about our time here. Maybe you won’t need them, but I could use the reminder.

My sweet husband reminded me that it would be nice to end this with a quote, since I espoused the virtues of citing a smarter person back up there in the beginning. I consulted The Google and it turns out the actual quote from the movie wasn’t all that great. Nevertheless, I will leave you with this, my parting thoughts:

"I'm a writer obsessed with remembering, with remembering the past of America above all and above all that of Latin America, intimate land condemned to amnesia." -Eduardo Galeano

Con cariño,
Laurel

Finding Consensus

2010-11-04T13:53:00.004-05:00

Part of my job as a Peace Corps Volunteer is to represent my training group on the Volunteer Advisory Council (VAC) and for the last year I have served as president. VAC meets with the Country Director 3 times a year to discuss volunteer concerns: policy changes, office or programming issues, volunteer events and initiatives. Our main objective is to provide volunteer support through various means like conducting an outreach program called Hermanitos, hosting training and volunteer events, and giving out small VAC grants. Our events and grants are paid for through VAC calendars, a product we produce featuring photos taken by volunteers around the country.

VAC VP Jason, Sec. Molly, and former-president Jacob

VAC grants are a unique opportunity for volunteers to get a smaller project off the ground with the help of a small amount of cash (between $50 and $100). The amount isn't enough to give community members the impression that PCVs are going to be a source of major project funding, capable of financing any idea they come up with (a role to be avoided), but rather to provide just enough to jump start a project through the purchase of educational materials or minor infrastructure improvements. In their applications, PCVs are asked to explain how their grant will be used to support a sustainable project, why the project will be useful and successful, and how many people will be positively affected by the grant.

Until recently VAC grants were handed out by the grant coordinator and his or her smaller committee, but now we use our entire smart and ambitious council of representatives in order to make the selections a more democratic process. This requires each of us to read all of the grants that were submitted, applying initial quantitative scores, then arguing out the details as to who the recipients would be and why.

So we spent an entire morning at our last meeting reading through the different proposals, scoring them, and arguing over who deserved our precious VAC grant money. No, it isn't much, but it is something, and it could be a turning point for a PCV trying to get in good with his or her community. From the down-to-the-cent specifics ($76.34 for a jewelry making drill) to the excruciatingly vague ($100 to help start a 'nature center'), we set out upon the task at hand (we even received a few requests for world map supplies). Some proposals were unanimously rejected outright, others embraced by all, but the vast majority had a few strong proponents and a few who felt it did not meet our specific requirements.

The way Peace Corps Ecuador is configured, there are four different programs: Natural Resource Conservation, Sustainable Agriculture, Community Health, and Youth & Families. This, more or less, puts us into 2 camps. ‘NRC’ and ‘Agriculture’ (the green group that deals more with the environment) go through training together; likewise, ‘Health’ and ‘Y&F’ (the people people) go through training together. When it came to making decisions about who got VAC money for their projects, our personal project scopes became a major factor in how we, as individuals, understood the main criteria of "sustainability".

As we battled it out, project-by-project, something interesting and nearly unprecedented happened -- people changed their minds. When was the last time any one of us sat in a conversation and had their mind changed by a persuasive argument? We were essentially debating sustainability (as many of us do over beers now and again while working in the development biz), but this time it came down to the actual dollars and cents that we had the privilege of distributing. It wasn't much money that we were talking about giving, but it was enough so that every penny of it was scrutinized. Why would this proposal be successful? Will it continue to impact project’s life after the end of the PCVs two years of service? What about after 3 years? 5 years? To what extent has the community demonstrated interest? Does the proposal reflect support for a "project" or just an improvement?

It was difficult to put aside our biases - NRC and Ag volunteers for green projects, Health and Y&F volunteers for health projects - but I think the discussion ultimately broke down the idea of sustainability quite succinctly, as well as forcing us to verbalize and argue for our own definitions. In development we talk about "sustainability" all the time - so much so, in fact, that I loathe using the word when another will do as well. However, since it was our criteria, we were steered back to the familiar jargon time and time again. Not all of us had our minds changed, but enough of us did so that we finally came to decisions that were (very nearly) consensus.

Before we moved on, we broke into groups and wrote feedback for each of the proposal submitters – why we did or did not accept their proposal and if not, how they could improve their proposal to be considered the next time around. Going through the action of writing the feedback reinforced the process of examining what makes a good project and which would be worth funding.

Despite being a much more tedious process and adding several hours to our already-long meeting, the joint decision-making process was a huge improvement over the former method, as well as a rewarding intellectual experience for those involved.

VAC Treasurer Ethan and me

World Cup

2010-07-05T12:05:00.010-05:00

With rain pouring down on us, Laurel and John and I ran to the SUV of our German friend, Jens. With the windows fogged and our clothes soaked, we pulled up to a shop of appliances and construction equipment. We were on a mission, a mission to find power by any means necessary. It was still early morning on Saturday the 26^th of June, the same day the U.S. was scheduled to play their round of sixteen game in the World Cup against Ghana. And, of course ours and the surrounding provinces in the Ecuadorian rainforest would be without electricity for the entire day. Occasionally the local power company has to do some upgrades and they chose the day the U.S. plays in a once-in-four-years-if your-lucky soccer match. We needed a generator.

We also needed a location with Direct TV as opposed to standard cable. Suffice it to say the bunny ears wouldn't work either – the antenna stations didn't have electricity. After canvassing the entire town we finally found a guy named Guido who runs a hostel called La Posada (used to be called Yutzus-Dos) who not only had Direct TV but also paid his bill last month (unlike Michael at Hostel Limoncocha, another one of our German friends) and allowed us to hook a generator up to his electrical box. Guido was awesome! This guy not only let us hook up the generator but also set up his nicer TV outside on the patio with chairs and beers. The twenty American tourists staying there gave their local Peace Corps Volunteers a round of applause for getting this set up. Finally, game time.

* * *

So we didn't win. Did anyone expect us to? Let's be honest here, the U.S. has some – some – good players but there were too many glaring flaws to expect them to beat Ghana let alone a team like Brazil or Spain.

Bradley, Edu, Bocanegra and Dempsey look on after a tough loss to Ghana

The mark of great teams is ball control, creativity and at least one world class player that can better a double or triple team – Argentina might have two guys like that in Messi and Tevez – amazingly exciting to watch. The U.S. has some really fast guys and an aggressive attacking posture but we were consistently bullied at mid-field and had consistent mental lapses on defense. Coach Bradley was rumored to have adopted a long-ball strategy because he didn't have faith in our players' ability to play more measured, controlled attacks (he may have been right). Some teams can stretch the field and live off of set plays and a few explosive players scoring in a flash but very few win World Cup games with this strategy. Italy did it in 2006 because of amazing defense and an ill-timed head butt by France's captain at a critical point in the finals (also, all their goals, I believe, came from penalty kicks). England subscribes to a faster striking style as well but what have they done internationally lately? No, the prevailing style, the mark of excellence, is the ability to control the ball and score creatively a la Brazil, Argentina, Spain, the Netherlands, and in this World Cup, Uruguay. I wonder if there's a strategic change on the way for Team USA.

That day we weren't the only Americans tuned into the game. Apparently it was also the most watched men's FIFA World Cup game in history. Fifteen million people watched it in the U.S. with San Diego leading all media markets in viewership. Yay San Diego! As many people watched the World Cup games as the NBA Finals – which says something when the WC games are on in the mornings and the NBA Finals are on during prime time. Of course it still did not equal the ratings for the Women's World Cup – a world athletic event we actually win at occasionally.

Bradley, stoic as usual.

The next World Cup will probably not feature Donovan or Dempsey, two guys who've led our team the last two attempts, for better or for worse. I'm really disappointed with Coach Bradley's decision to put Findley in at forward and leave Dempsey on a wing. With Dempsey and Altidore up front we could have been a much scarier scoring threat. Next time around Donovan will either not be playing (at 32 years old) or will be ineffectual. I liked what I saw in two younger guys Maurice Edu and Benny Feilhaber, and hopefully Charlie Davies will be able to play after he heals from his recent car accident. Mostly, however, we'll need to adopt a strategy that involves better midfield play and we'll need to manifest some better defensive talent. Strategies aside, our one win against a small North African country aside, all the manufactured hype of the U.S.'s supposed chances this time aside, now what?

Good looking team.

We look forward to the Women's World Cup next summer in Germany, that's what. Our women are currently ranked number one by FIFA and if we can beat two-time defending champs Germany in their own country it could be bigger than a Super Bowl. No seriously, the cool thing about being an American during World Cup, besides making fun of fake pansy divers from France, is rooting for that other country you're a fan of because your family actually hails from there. I intend to root for Germany (I'm half German and my other sanguine rooted half, Ireland, got robbed by Thierry Henry's hand ball in the qualifying rounds) and I'll admire the abilities of Lionel Messi (it's a shame he only came off the bench in 2006 because he was also the best player on any pitch then, as now).

Messi and Tevez, great one-two combo for Argentina.

It's also appropriate to root for any other countries where you've lived in the past. I'd even say an extended vacation would qualify, say a hazy month in Jamaica, or a long hiking trip in the Swiss Alps. For us, obviously, we are fans of Ecuador, but that fandom will have to wait at least another four years. We've heard that the last World Cup was a much bigger deal here (Ecuador actually qualified that time). But we're still pretty excited to be in a country that truly appreciates the sport and this whole month hasn't disappointed. People take off work, drink beer in the morning, sing in the streets – it's actually a bit like Carnival.

As for the power outage, the lights, fans, and TVs fired back up just in time for the Germany England game the next morning. Those Germans have some real sway around here. Watching the Germans scream and hug after every goal, en route to a thorough beat-down of the sport's creators, I was reminded of the heights of joy my American friends and I shared when Landon scored that goal in the 91^st minute against Algeria, giving us just one more game of life. If the Padres or Chargers ever won a championship, I imagine that's what it would be like. And that's what soccer does, on the world stage, there's something for nearly everyone. Even one shot, ill fated, with just enough english on it to trickle passed the keeper can cause celebration over a one-one tie against a former colonial overlord. They should do this every year.

Donovan couldn't do it all himself.

* * *

World Cup Observations:

Japan is pretty impressive. With their public organization abilities they will soon boast the best youth development program to find and train the best talent available and eventually become a consistent contender on the world stage. First they beat us in baseball, now this.
The U.S. needs soccer development programs in places other than the suburbs.
Germany is scary good. Mostly because they are a young team that everyone thought wouldn't have contend until 2014. They may not beat Argentina but they looked pretty impressive against Ghana and England. (Obviously I wrote that last bit before the German dismantling of Argentina. Wow, eight goals in two games against England then Argentina. And, it was the very first game I've ever seen where Messi looked mortal.)

All the South American qualifiers made it out of group play. For real, Paraguay, Chile and Uruguay (the other teams that made it besides the two power houses Brazil and Argentina) could easily be better than England, France and Italy. Who would've thought that would happen back in 2006?
The Netherlands Brazil game was a soccer clinic. More ball control than hernia check-up. Watching the Uruguay vs Ghana game later that day was like watching a local pick up soccer match with drunk Kichwa men. How do they learn this stuff? And, how can we convince our youth it's actually cool?
Teams that didn't deserve to be in the World Cup but got in because of regional qualification tournaments:

1. North Korea

2. Honduras

3. Nigeria

4. France (Also wouldn't have qualified anyway if there was replay in soccer.)

Teams that should have been invited instead:

Ireland – Not only because of Henry's hand ball, the Irish should get automatic qualification status every year just because it would help the world economy by way of increased beer sales – kind of like how Americans insist Cinco de Mayo is a big holiday.
Coatia – Currently ranked number ten in the world by FIFA.
Russia – Currently ranked number eleven in the world by FIFA.
Ecuador – Waaaay better than Honduras or North Korea. They actually beat Argentina and tied Brazil during qualifying rounds. And, with the high altitude locations in South Africa, they could have been a surprise, heart-warming Cinderella team. They just don't lose at altitude. Also, it would have been cool for us PCVs in Ecuador.

American sports columnists have begun their idiotic, "I hate soccer" rants. For an American sports column that doesn't insist that soccer sucks because it's slow, go here: Bleacher Report and here: Mike Freeman (CBS).
For a hilarious take on the moronic Jim Rome soccerphobe stance go here: The Guardian (UK). I promise this one will knock your socks off.

The Berdels

2010-07-01T11:30:00.015-05:00

About a month into training, in April 2009, we traveled to Tena to do a week-long visit and some preliminary project discussions. That week was the most anticipated one of training, by far. Many things have happened since then: Some people’s projects have changed, some people’s sites have changed and for us, mostly just our perspective changed. One thing that didn’t change was the presence of our compadre couple at the office, Wolf and Franka Berdel. Last week however, was their last.

That day we arrived, there were six of us sitting at a bus stop café, drinking a victory beer for having, to our surprise, survived the bus trip down here. Little did we know that we would become very used to the bus drivers’ break-neck pace soon enough. We waited at the café for our counterparts to pick us up while talking excitedly about the adventures ahead of us. I didn’t think much about it at the time but one of the first counterparts to arrive was Wolf Berdel – for Ben, another volunteer in our cluster assigned to work with Parque Nacional Sumaco.

Wolf is a six-foot-two, skinny blonde German guy with a tremendous laugh and a happy spirit to match. That’s kind of a strange looking counterpart for Ecuador, I thought. After everyone left, Laurel and I jumped into the back of a pick-up truck of a guy who owned a hostel on the far end of town. Our counterpart (Bolier) was out of town at the time so we stayed in said hostel (previously written about) that also had great hammocks, good food and a monkey on a rope.

Wolf

After unpacking our weeks’ worth of clothes, Laurel and I asked where the best place to get a cold drink would be. They said the name of a bar that would eventually become our Cheers, Araña. Upon arriving to the watering hole along the river we saw Ben and the tall German sitting around a table, having beers and eating. It turns out that Wolf was also one of our counterparts; he was just picking up Ben because he drew the short straw and had to leave the bar while one of Ecuador’s World Cup qualifying matches was going on. (If I remember correctly, Ecuador won easily against Bolivia.) Ben would be heading to his site near Volcán Sumaco, three hours out, the next day with another counterpart, Juan Pablo. At this table there sat almost all of our future office mates.

Franka

Wolf and Franka work for the German development agency DED. This group actually started out as a show of support for John F. Kennedy’s vision of the Peace Corps. DED and USPC started similarly, but eventually Germany shifted focus to more advanced technical assistance. Now DED workers get paid like USAID, which is to say, pretty good for the developing world. Wolf and Franka dated while on his first assignment for the DED in Gambia. Because of his work in Gambia, Wolf was quite familiar with the Peace Corps, and speaking English.

While Wolf is tireless and always fun and optimistic, Franka, his possibly wiser half (she has her PhD) is down to earth and cool. They have two beautiful little girls, Maya and Paula and together they lived next door to us in probably Tena’s nicest house. Good for parties.

Of course, when we first arrived in site, after training, the Berdels and many other people from the office were on a month-long vacation so there was very little to actually do. But, when everyone got back, the Berdels would prove invaluable not only as friends in a strange city but as summarizers of the ins and outs of our work place. Together, our inexperience with the coastal accent (several of our counterparts hail from the coast), misunderstandings about timeliness, frustrations about disorganization, and questions about the meaning of it all began to take its toll. If it wasn’t for the explanations of the Berdels (in English to boot), I (at least) would have been lost for a lot longer than the first month or so.

Laurel and I quickly found out that weekend evenings at Araña or at someone’s house were the place to find answers about the labyrinth that is a development consortium like Grupo Sumaco. Social situations like these were not only our way to clarify unknowns, it was also a way for many other people in the office to get to know us and more casually vent frustrations of their own. Eventually, our Spanish improved (I mostly mean mine, Laurel was fine from the beginning) and our relationships with other counterparts also developed. I wouldn’t say things are always smooth sailing at the office now but at least we understand why it isn’t. Thank goodness for the Berdels.

Beyond work and social gatherings, Laurel and I also began to develop a real friendship with these guys. We took trips together, ate meals together and talked about everything under the sun. They learned about our U.S.A and we learned about their Germany. They’ve been in Ecuador for five years this month and their kids have never really known Germany, but they are in fact going home. . . But not until the largest despedida (going away celebration) this town has ever seen.

One Thursday night in June during game seven of the NBA finals (I know, I missed it, but I’m glad I did) about seventy people met at the Park offices auditorium for speeches, games, music, presentations and a pretty good time.

Afterward we all spent the entire night imbibing and reminiscing at a local private bar. When the sun came up we all trudged along to the Vagabundo Pizzaria, the Italian restaurant of one of the other Germans in town, Jurgen, to watch the World Cup. Germany was playing the 6:30 am game and the U.S. had the 9:00 am game. Needless to say Friday was a lost day after the games were over.

I haven’t stayed up all night in ten years, nor do I plan on doing it ever again. It just seemed fitting. I wonder if the Mayor is as popular as the Berdels in this town.

Among the many people who were thankful in their own way for having been friends with the Berdels was a Women’s group from Loreto (about two hours east). Wolf and Franka assisted this group with a grant about four years ago to pay for machines to help them with their arts and crafts business. It was a big success, at least on the part of these women’s lives even if not in terms of pure profit. But, because of security restrictions, DED, like the Peace Corps are not allowed to travel to the province east of here anymore, where Loreto borders. As a result the Berdels haven’t seen these women in four years.

Jens helps present with a community member

A couple weeks ago, Miguel, one of the Park Guards stationed in Loreto told the women about the Berdels leaving. So, they all gathered on a bus to Tena (by bus it takes about three and half hours) with Kichwa handy-crafts packed as gifts. When arriving in Tena on the day of the despedida, they were greeted with big smiles and a few tears. They all took pictures and exchanged gifts (Wolf didn’t remove his twine purse all night). The women also went to the party and had a great time.

In all, it was one heck of a memorable fiesta for everyone. Over five years, well, I’m sure they have a pretty long list of accomplishments to name in a resume, some of which I personally know of, but how many people do you know who get to have a job where you can actually change the course of peoples’ lives?

They didn’t want to leave. Up until the end they were working furiously to find positions with one of the other German groups in-country. They’re going to miss it here, sure, but they might just be missed more.

no es adios, solo hasta luego

Quito, Ecuador

2010-06-21T16:06:00.007-05:00

Quito, Ecuador sits approximately nine thousand feet above sea level in the Andes mountain range. With 1.8 million people, in such a relatively small mountain valley, this capital city boasts many of the nice amenities and the aggravating air and noise pollution you would expect to find. From our home in the rain forest we have to ascend eight thousand feet in just over five hours. The trip is breath taking in its beauty and lack of oxygen. With winding roads on perilous cliff edges, the one hundred mile trip makes Quito seem like a completely different day away.

This month, Laurel and I made the journey for about the eighth time since we’ve been here. We were attending what the Peace Corps calls “mid-service training” where each of the thirty-three remaining volunteers from our training class met up for almost a week of seminars, medical exams and good food. The striking cool air and light headedness combined with nearly no humidity and the ever present cloud of bus exhaust works together to make head colds a hundred percent probability for those of us in sites “down the mountain”.

Every time we go to Quito, we get a cold – no exceptions. Those volunteers who live in sites in or around the Andes obviously have an easier time. They even think Quito is warmer than their sites as it sits in a valley adorned with copious amounts of cement. For us, it’s like being on another planet, a very cold planet with a different atmosphere and gravity. Even a flight of stairs a burden – and we’ve been working out regularly.

Of course, during the middle of the day the sun will definitely burn you in no time at all. Walking along the downtown streets looking for a bagel shop or DVD store, one can surely become overheated but the shade is a reprieve in the neighborhood of a twenty degree difference. At night, the wind swirls and cuts through our jeans and jacket. I used to love the cool weather. I even used to complain about people who kept their homes or offices higher than 68 Fahrenheit. Now, I guess you could say I’m used to the comfort of the balmy, tropical heat I’ve been living in for the last year.

Quito is a great time though: there are book stores with books in English, there are sushi restaurants, pizza delivered to your hostel, Indian food (I was introduced to a food called shwarma this last time around – kind of like a mix between a gyro and a burrito), bars, night clubs, movie theatres – you name it. And, the NBA finals were going on so of course, we all headed to a sports bar and spent three bucks a beer. This is actually harder to bring yourself to do than one might think. It’s not just the cost compared to our meager salaries; it’s also the size of the beer. In most of the country, beers (Pilsener brand) come in 22 oz bottles. It has a little less “beer flavor” than a Coors Light and in warm climates you have to drink it somewhat faster than one might be used to so that it doesn’t get warm by the time you finish. Add that all together and my measly twelve ounce mug in a Quito restaurant turns into a Dixie cup in my mind. Oh well, it’s not like we make a habit of going to Quito.

So, by the end of the third day people started to filter home, being done with their medical screenings. Some said that they really had to get back to their sites and that they didn’t have time to goof around in Quito but you could tell that we were also starting to get burnt out from all the gringos around us. We’ve all lived fairly solitary English-speaking existences and outgoing Spanish-speaking ones for over a year now. Going to bars and parties was becoming tiresome this time – who would’ve thought? Admittedly, I was feeling the same way. Also, I always yearn for the rain forest climate every time I’m stuck in Quito.

Gotta love Omnibus 101!

As far as our medical screenings go: Laurel and I had no cavities, no parasites, no worms, no amoebas. Of course, I was sure that I would have had something wrong with me if I had taken this medical exam six months ago but it seems I’ve grown accustomed to whatever new power arrangement formed between any new bad-assed bacteria I now have in my gut. Also, the dentist even said “good job with the flossing, hardly any plaque.” I thought he must have been kidding, no matter how clean my teeth are in the States, I feel like I always get the flossing lecture. Maybe it’s a matter of relativity, or salesmanship. After every floss lecture I always have to deal with the “up-sell” of some state-of-the-art new tooth sealant they want me to pay for.

Also, no head-cold. That’s right, hardly a sniffle. Well, Laurel had her usual but I was fine. And by day four, I felt like I was getting used to the altitude – just in time to go back home. Now we’re back and extremely happy about it. Our fun little town is so much more enjoyable than some big polluted city. Working out is always nice when you travel to some place with more oxygen than the place you came, so we got that working for us for a few days.

We have about ten months left in our service. It’s seems like nowhere near enough time to finish all we came here for. I’ve even resigned myself to continue working on my project for a few months after I’m back home in San Diego next year – the stuff I can do via the internet, that is. But ten months will be gone before we know it, especially when you consider it will be more like eight months when you subtract the vacations we’ll be taking in October and December. And, one month gets scratched off for the World Cup. This whole country has shut down during the day and it’s only group play.

Well, there’s lots going on right now and plenty to blog about so we’ll be updating this a little more regularly throughout the next month or so. That’s right, I mean to do a World Cup post. Also we’ll do a story covering the going away party for our German friends, and Laurel has a highly informative post in the works regarding poop. Also there is a new foundation Laurel is working with based out of the States so I’m sure we’ll be doing a little blog post publicity thing here soon, and she might even get around to writing a little bit about the Cacao Fair. Did you know Laurel even helped produce a series of local television shows on climate change a couple weeks ago? Yeah, we got some cool new stuff so stay tuned.

Go USA!

(Much love to Yoni for letting us borrow his picture.)

Thesis: Texts as a way of measuring stages of volunteer integration

2010-05-13T14:22:00.009-05:00

Peace Corps Volunteers these days have it so good. While conditions haven't actually changed very much from the 1960s (as evidenced by the book Living Poor by Moritz Thomsen), our ability to communicate with our fellow PCVs and loved ones at home has improved dramatically (and very recently – our welcome kit still recommended that families number their letters). Email, cell phones, Skype, and Facebook have given us unprecedented connectivity, and more than ever we are able to give friends and family at home an accurate picture of volunteer life.

Just over a year ago, I started writing down what I thought were the funniest, strangest, or just most interesting texts I received from my fellow PCVs. It essentially came about because I had no more room in my SMS inbox and couldn't bear the thought of just deleting such priceless snippets of hilarity. So I started a Word file on my laptop and every time I got the "No space: message waiting"-beep I copied the best ones down before deleting.

In that first month I would get as many as 6 or 7 messages a day that I deemed worth saving. Things like:

“Remote controlled car but the car is attached to a cord which is attached to the remote and dragged. Instead of cutting in slices, they cut the cake in circles. My [host] mom still doesn’t know my name.”

“My host mom is senile.”

“…my neighbor is wearing an “I love hippie” hat. Dirty DHs!”

“Should one year olds be drinking Gatorade?”

“I think I was a party in selling beer and cigarettes to minors and the police are involved. If I got to jail please bail me out.”

“So I’m reading in my hammock and hear a rustle in the bushes. Probably a chicken, or maybe a kid. No, iguana.”

“My hide and go seek moment from last night feels like the Almost Famous I’m-a-golden-god scene.”

Particularly entertaining (to me, at least) were the texts I got about strange food encounters. Not living with a community deep in the jungle, I don't often get offered the interesting fare that many of my friends do, so I live vicariously through their experiences:

"I just had monkey for dinner! Yum!"

"We are going to have possum for lunch."

"I just ate big black ants a.k.a. ukuy."

"I just had catfish caviar, wild animal meat from the jungle, and boiled bananas for breakfast. No wonder my poop looks like an iron chef version of chili."

"I just drank 2 litros of chicha in 32 seconds at our town meeting to practice for a game day we're having against 10 other communities Sunday. I'm representing [my community] for the chicha drinking contest"

...and the subsequent illnesses:

"Woke up with sulfuric burps and intense stomach cramps… chalk another slash on the giardia count."

"Well, we're now in the same 'don't want to see a hot dog for a long time' club after I ate one for dinner last night and spent the night sick, today as well."

"On the upside, I went big on my fecal exam: parasites, 2 types of amoebas, and Ecoli. That's a Grand Slam!"

"I got worms!"

After those first several weeks, these observations began to drop off as the shock began to subside. I went from getting as many as 6 save-worthy texts per day down to one or two. And as constant communication slowed down, I began to get messages from people who felt, perhaps, neglected and needed to talk.

“Hey”

“I need some English.”

“I have the best story ever.”

“Hey when you get a chance could you give me a call? I just need to vent.”

“When I don’t hear from you in a week I get fucking worried.”

Isolated PCVs find great comfort in just getting a chance to speak their own language at the end of a long day or week of verbal isolation. I had the benefit of more saldo (cell phone minutes) than the others, and could call when they had already used up their month's allotment. At various intervals, I got some texts that made me question whether the isolation (or whatever) wasn't starting to get to some of my fellow PCVs. There were strange messages that indicated they might be getting closer to the edge:

“The feeling is beautiful and that’s the best part. PS. [I’m] drunk. Electric love lightning bolts fill the sky.”

“James Bean made me cry.”

“Just killed an equis [very poisonous type of snake] that was crawling up the steps. Totally calm. Totally cool.”

“Maybe I’m overheating because of my hair.”

“We’re all looking for something out here in the darkness. Do we know what it is? No. Will we find it? Most definitely. Things we can feel but not touch.”

“Oops that wasn’t meant for you. Haha.”

“Dead mon. And homeless hungry hung over I slept in a bus stop last night wow”

“You start to find out Who You Really Are (i.e. Who I Am) when there's no power and you're drinking 4 dollar gin solo by candlelight. The answers are somewhere at the bottom of this bottle. Or in the pages of my notebooks. The words are written in the blood of generations lost and they spell something that includes smooth Soul Butter”

But eventually we moved on. The focus shifted (with occasional lapses due to unprecedented ridiculousness) toward work, relationships, and events in our communities rather than culture shock and madness:

“That damn helicopter has been at it again today. It’s not looking like it's dropping the stuff off in Rukullacta but more adentro. If you're at the entrance to the caves looking at the road it’s going into the mountains in front and to the right of the caves. Muy lejos.”

“Okay, cutest thing ever. My foundation that doesn't celebrate birthdays threw me a surprise party last night with cake and dancing. It was their first ever birthday party they threw. Wow!”

“Today, meeting with battalion commander. Tomorrow, hand washing conference.”

“Have you heard of a new mining project in [deleted]? Some of the Germans are thinking of calling UNESCO and getting the reserve status revoked - all through other organizations and using fake names. This sounds like fun.”

“We have adjusted nursery policy to no fires but it is difficult for them because for them quemar is both burn and decompose.”

“At the fiestas of Cotundo and they're totally singing songs from the [Sumaco] national park CD!”

It isn't to say that ridiculous things weren't still happening – just that we had stopped being so impressed. I still get the occasional "There are young girls dancing in bikinis at the women's day event. Where does this fit in?" or "There's one of those candy sellers on my bus posing as a clown and he just stuck a six inch nail up his nose. Sweet lord." But most of the messages I get these days are more like this:

“Um. I. Have. Gossip.”

“Gotta love a cab ride home from a cabby with his whole family in the cab. As an added bonus the cabby even gave me an orange.”

“Oh, did I mention I'm becoming a Godfather on Sunday? Respect Dat!”

“My new favorite word - ecuatorianamente. It comes from the new Pilsener slogan but has become my new life slogan. It translates to Ecuadorianally [sic].”

“I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over the roar of my community rushing onto the field to congratulate me on my game winning header with 20 seconds left in the game!”

“… I missed this so much. I don't know how I can stay away.”

I love looking back on all the texts I deemed worthy of saving. It makes me see how far we've come, how much we've integrated, and how much we've shared. I'm grateful for the friends I've got here and how much they enrich my experience as a PCV. So here's to text messaging! And to all of the technology that keeps us close emotionally when the roads are long and winding (or closed by mudslides and protests) between your site and mine.

Love,
Laurel

Year 1 as a PCV: By the Numbers

2010-05-04T10:51:00.019-05:00

Saturday (May 1) marked the one year anniversary of moving to our beautiful town of Tena. On April 30th of last year, Daniel and I swore in as official Peace Corps Volunteers at the US Ambassador’s mansion in Quito along with 39 other members of Omnibus 101. The following day we went our separate ways by bus, truck, and canoe, full of anticipation for the months ahead. For me, the first few months went the slowest. Getting used to our new digs, making new friends, celebrating the 4th of July, learning the ins and outs of our work, meeting weekly with our neighboring PCVs and hearing about their crazy adventures – it all seems so long ago now. But then in August, my parents and sister came to visit (bearing gifts!) and in September we reunited with our friends for a reconnect conference in Puyo and Riobamba.

October marked our 2 year wedding anniversary and we celebrated Halloween in El Chaco.

November and December flew by as work picked up in earnest and the fiesta season (Thanksgiving, birthdays, Christmas, NYE) hit its stride. January we played hosts again to my parents and in February we got our first nonfamily visitor!

The last two months have gone in a blink and now it is hard to imagine how we are going to squeeze everything in with one measly year left. There is so much work left to do and so many places to visit before we go. Without a doubt it has been an incredible year. Here are some highlights… by the numbers:

Entertainment
Books read by Laurel: 45
Books read by Daniel: 52

Books read by Daniel that Laurel thinks shouldn’t count: 7
Books read by Daniel while Laurel was reading Infinite Jest: 5
Books read by John: 102
HBO TV series watched: 5

Non-HBO TV series watched: 5
Festivals in Tena: 12
Reina competitions: 12

Sports
NFL football games watched: 10
Futbol games watched: 86 (at least)

Rugby games watched while scratching our heads wondering what the heck is going on: 1
Daniel, John and Ben’s basketball record against Tena locals: 64-2
Daniel, John and Ben’s volleyball record against Tena locals: 0-3

From the EEUU
Total packages received: 16
Number of packages sent by someone other than Laurel’s mom: 3
Total visitors received from the US: 4
Nonfamily members who’ve visited: 1 (Yay Shannon!)
Weddings missed: 1
Births missed: 3

Peace Corps
Omnibus 101 members sworn in: 41

Omnibus 101 members who left (for one reason or another) in the first 3 months: 8
Omnibus 101 members who’ve left since then: 0
Country Directors worked under: 4 (2 official, plus 2 interim)
Number of program staff who’ve changed over since arriving: 2 (both positions)

Living Arrangements
Number of locations lived: 3
Time spent at each location in months:
Casa de Bolier: 2.5
Apartment in Barrio Tereré: 3.5
Apartment on the Malecón: 6
Longest time Laurel and Daniel have lived together in any one apartment: 11 months
Longest stretch of days without rain: 8
Longest power outage: 27 hours
Longest period without running water: 2.5 days
Number of bucket baths (in place of a shower) taken as a result of periodic water issues: 3
Showers normally taken per week: Daniel – 7; Laurel – 5
Number of showers taken by John in the last year: 15 (he just jumps in the river)

Health
How many times per month (on average) do we deal with some health ailment: 1 each
Percentage gripe (cold) – 12%
Percentage bodily aches – 4%
Percentage Flu-like symptoms – 8%
Percentage digestive issues – 76%
Percentage of times Daniel gets stomach cramps after eating local pizza: 100%
Likelihood that Daniel will stop eating pizza when he can get it: 0%

Food + Drink
Varieties of bananas tried: 7
Cost of a steak (filet mignon) dinner: $6.75

Cost of almuerzo at our favorite lunch place: $2.50
Calories per dollar: 480
Number of street food vendors patroned: 8
Number of street food vendors we “would buy from again”: 3
On a scale of shoe leather to heaven, average consistency of street-meat steak in our town: -42
Cost of a 22 oz. Pilsener in a bar or restaurant: $1.25-$2.50
Cost of a 22 oz. Pilsener in a Kichwa bar: $1.00

Cost of a 22 oz. Pilsener as part of a jaba (12-pack): $0.62-$0.75
Cost of a 16 oz. pint of beer in a bar in San Diego before we left: $5.00-$6.00
Cost of a glass of 120-proof moonshine sold in John’s community: $0.25
Bowls of Chicha imbibed:
Daniel – 5
Laurel – 2
John – 365
How many dishes have we concocted that involve a can of tuna: 9
How many restaurants do John and Ben regularly frequent that Daniel and Laurel will not go to: 3
Typical reason John and Ben frequent restaurants with questionable food quality: large portion size.
Number of bottles of hot sauce currently in our kitchen: 8

Volume of hot sauce used in typical meal by person:
Daniel – 3 oz
Laurel – 1 oz
Ben – 0 oz
John – 12 oz
On a scale of awesome, (1 being inedible, 10 being best ever), quality of menu items at our new favorite restaurant, Mario’s (Argentinean Cuisine):
Hamburger – 7 (best in town)
Churipan sandwich (ground beef and sausage) – 7.5
Empanada – 9.5 (pure awesome)

Travel
Cities visited: 8
Cities visited for non-Peace Corps or work-related reasons: 0
Vacation days accrued: 24
Vacation days used: 0

Weather
Percentage of days with rain: 89
Percentage of days Daniel correctly predicted rain: 89
Total number of days that long sleeves and/or a jacket was needed in Tena…
…by Laurel: 7
…by Daniel: 2
Number of umbrellas we’ve broken or lost: 3

Work
Number of cocktail parties attended as part of work: 6
Number of said cocktail parties that were attended by the mayor: 1
Number of bug bites Laurel has gotten while sitting at her desk: 65468468 zillion

Number of bug bites Laurel has currently: 26
Number of bug bites Daniel has currently: 0 (He wears pants and shoes to work)

Misc.
Percentage of cab rides taken where Daniel insists on riding in the back, chariot style: 93
Times Laurel was asked if she was married: 365
Times Laurel was subsequently asked if she had kids: 365
Number of blog posts written: 21
How many were by Daniel:15
How many were by Laurel:6
How many pictures taken by Laurel: Over 1,000
How many pictures taken by Daniel: maybe 75
How often Laurel talks with her parents via Phone (skype) or chat: 3 times a week
How often for Daniel: once every three months
Cluster members lost: 3
Cluster members gained: 1
Pairs of shoes destroyed by souls melting off: 2
Total pairs of shoes, in all of Ecuador, that fit Daniel: 4 (all either in Daniel’s closet or on his feet right now)

Miles walked per week on average for Daniel and Laurel: 12

Number of times attacked by a monkey: 3

Disclaimer: Most numbers are approximate.

Flood

2010-04-13T16:17:00.013-05:00

Tuesday of last week, Laurel and I woke up to the sound of our frightened neighbor frantically banging on our door to wake us up while trying to explain that the water was rising. Because he was speaking really fast and muffled by our window, and because I was barely awake, I didn’t really understand what he was saying. So, assuming he might just be drunk and locked out, I got dressed while cursing him under my breath. When I got outside I realized something wasn’t right. My neighbor, Omar and his wife and little girl were packing a bag and pointing to the river. It was getting pretty high.

Now, none of our other neighbors were panicking but I thought I should at least try to empathize with the guy instead of being annoyed at having been woken from a comfortable sleep (when it rains the temperature drops nicely). The reason no one else was worried is because we happen to live about twelve feet above the road, which was still a good three feet above the water level. Usually the road is a good twenty feet above the water level. So in reality we had nothing to worry about.

But moments later the water jumped over the retaining wall a little further down the road toward the riverfront area. A shallow pool of water started to back up toward our building, settling under Omar’s truck parked outside. It finally occurred to me that if it gets any higher, the problem won’t be that the water will flood our place (that would have been nearly impossible), the problem would have been that we wouldn’t be able to get out while the flood was happening. The only way to higher ground was along that same road and up stairs to the main road above us. There may have been some urgency to get moving but hardly life and death as far as we were concerned. Omar was just worried about his truck.

view of flooding on our street, nearly 12 meters above normal water levels, taken around 3 am. you can just make out omar's truck.

So, Laurel and I packed some valuables and a change of clothes and we went outside to wait with our other neighbors, Wolf and Franka (the German couple we work with). From the road you could clearly see that the riverfront park and street were now part of the river. They are only five or six feet below us but the direction of the river affected that path more than anything. We decided we would wait at higher ground until the river went back down. It was about 3:30 am at this point and the whole ordeal had the feel of a little adventure.

A few minutes after locking up the apartment, while waiting outside Wolf and Franka’s house with their kids Maya and Paula, we saw a large object floating down the river. Yup, that was a house. A little earlier we thought was saw some furniture go by, so I guess that made sense. The river was dark but you could definitely make it out. The problem was that there’s a wooden bridge a little down river from us that connects the riverfront to the zoo island across the way. The river was high enough to ensure a collision. When it struck, it made a ghastly crunching noise and created a bit of a dam that forced some more water to back up our road. Omar and family had already left but I had the feeling his truck was about to be flooded. Then, another house came floating by. This one was even bigger and the bridge was no match. The three or four inch thick steel cables that held the bridge up from the concrete bases on either side would certainly hold but the concrete didn’t. The bridge collapsed into the flood along with the two houses and floated away.
remains of the bridge

where the bridge used to be

The water was still getting higher so we all walked up to the main road. Laurel and I checked some other access points from above. We could see that the riverfront was under about six feet of water and starting to run through town and the main road at its lowest point, flooding businesses, homes and the bank.

photo taken around 3:20 am at the main intersection

Wolf and Franka decided it would be best to wait out the storm at a friend’s house because their little girls were cranky and getting wet. Laurel and I joined them. A short walk through the rain to catch a cab allowed us to see that other parts of the city were under water.
The flood may be worse than we think, we thought looking down on an entire neighborhood underwater. On one of the hills overlooking the city, up a rain carved and mud bogged road, was Jentz’ place. Jentz is another German living in Tena who runs his own tourism and adventure guide company with his Kichwa wife. Until the sun came up, we sat around in newly dried clothes occasionally looking down at the city, trying to make out where the water was flowing.

By six o’clock the sky was bright enough to see so we headed back to town. Jentz’ dirt road had deteriorated further during the night. When we got to the riverfront the water had dropped at least ten feet. Things seemed safe but everything was a mess.
Mud covered the path where the river had jumped over the wall. Restaurants were upturned and caked with slimy brown. The businesses further down the road were in even worse shape.

One bar in particular toppled over completely. At least Omar’s truck was fine.

By seven o’clock scores of people were helping clear the mess. The bricks from the road were ripped up in some areas and rubber boots were a requirement. People even set up assembly lines to clean off each of the water-logged products found scattered about from the hardware store.

Our neighbor, Lisbeth, has a restaurant called Café Tortuga that was full of friends and neighbors who had come to lend a hand: carrying things out, mopping up the mud and salvaging produce (it was amazing how many eggs survived).
amazing eggs!

One great thing was the actions of the people affiliated with our favorite bar. Araña was actually open until about one o’clock the morning of the flood, so they could see the water rising. This is actually the lowest lying structure on the riverfront and they get flooded often enough to know the drill. (Just a month earlier they had flooded as well, though not to the same extent.) Before we left for higher ground earlier that morning we could actually see that the whole bar was submerged with up to ten feet of water. But while the water was slowly rising just before the flood, phone calls were made and people came out to lift everything not nailed down to higher ground. Refrigerators and other heavy furniture were carried up a narrow hallway to the driveway above.
Most amazing was that the structure survived completely intact. It was Tuesday morning and by Friday night they would be back open for business (yeah, yeah, I know because I was there).

It’s been a week now and most of the damage done in town that was salvageable is nearly back to normal. Café Tortuga should be open for business any day now (all Lisbeth’s refrigerators survived the flood, believe it or not).

There’s still a lot of mud on the roads and walkways because it’s been raining seemingly non-stop since then, but it was impressive to see how quickly the community rallied to help one another.

After the dust settled, and the Mayor did all his public speeches, we heard that two people lost their lives in Archidona (a town downriver) and nearly every community nearby had a few homes were lost or damaged beyond repair. In happier news, our friend the tapir who lives at the zoo across the river was spotted 2 days ago and we saw the monkeys out and about on Sunday evening, a good sign that not all of the animals were washed away.

People have been telling us that there hasn’t been a flood this bad in Tena for forty years. We’ve heard reports that other areas have had record floods throughout the Amazon region, wreaking havoc in the form of mudslides (especially in Brazil). For us it was simply an experience that teaches the power of nature’s sometimes destructive whims.

¡Feliz día de mujeres! March 8 is International Women’s Day…

2010-03-08T14:05:00.000-05:00

To all the wonderful women in our lives: Happy Women’s Day! This delightful holiday is sadly not much celebrated in the U.S., but it is alive and well here in Ecuador. Besides the extra saludos and exclamations of ¡feliz día!, this morning I received a rose and a chocolate delivered personally to my office by our mayor(!) Ing. Washington Varela. This evening the Ministry of the Environment had a special dinner for us… pizza and beer for all the ladies!

Women’s day began in the beginning of the 20th century as women´s rights movements began to take shape. Currently, it is "an official holiday in China, Armenia, Russia, Azerbaijan, Belarus, Bulgaria, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Macedonia, Moldova, Mongolia, Tajikistan, Ukraine, Uzbekistan and Vietnam. The tradition sees men honoring their mothers, wives, girlfriends, colleagues, etc with flowers and small gifts." For more information, check out the International Women´s Day website.

Now, I’m not one for Hallmark holidays, and buying more crap than necessary always seems foolish and environmentally irresponsible, but who couldn’t use a little extra chocolate? Or a handpicked flower to brighten her day? But in all seriousness, I am absolutely all for a holiday that raises awareness of women’s rights around the world. Think of today not of as a more-inclusive Mother’s Day, but as a Take-a-Minute-and-Think-about-the-Plights-of-Women-Around-the-World Day.

So thanks to all the strong women in my life! To my wonderful, supportive friends in Ecuador, California and around the world; to my inspirational former professors and colleagues; to my beautiful strong sisters and sister-in-law; and, of course, to Judy and my mom, without whom none of this would be possible. And also thanks to Daniel for making me feel like every day is Women’s Day.

Now go out and hug and appreciate your favorite women!

One Year In

2010-03-04T11:41:00.006-05:00

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.

Guest Post on Newlyweds Next Door

2010-02-04T10:57:00.007-05:00

Check out my guest post on my best friend's blog: Newlyweds Next Door

In 1961, President John F. Kennedy established the Peace Corps to promote world peace and friendship.

The Peace Corps' mission has three simple goals:

1. Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.

2. Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.

3. Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

- from the Peace Corps website

Part of our contribution to Goal 3 is writing about our experiences and sharing them with our friends and family back in the United States. Many thanks to the Newlyweds Next Door for helping us support the Peace Corps mission!

Thanksgiving, part 2 plus Birthday, Christmas, and New Years

2010-01-19T10:57:00.008-05:00

Sorry about the delay! Continued from last month…

Saturday, November 28, 2009 – Agua Blanca and Los Frailes

In the morning we met with the director of the biodiversity monitoring project at the offices of Parque Nacional Machalilla (PNM) in downtown Puerto Lopez. They are currently monitoring several different species (including giant sea turtles!) within the park with the help of various local agencies and funding from a foundation. Sumaco is in the early stages of starting a biodiversity monitoring project within the park (our office just finished writing the management plan) and it was an interesting and informative chance to ask questions about another park's work.

After an extensive Q&A, we headed out to Agua Blanca, a community tourism site located in dry tropical forest (one of the rarest and oldest equatorial forest areas in South America). Rich with archeological artifacts and interesting vegetation, the entire community is simultaneously lived in and preserved for anthropological and environmental conservation. The community members work at the museum, lead tours around the community, and sell traditional handicrafts, as well as participate in subsistence farming. The most recent of their ancient ancestors are believed to be the Manteña people whose middens and burial sites are located throughout the area. Many of these artifacts are concentrated in the community of Agua Blanca, a pre-Incan settlement.

Once we had completed the museum tour, we started a hike to see the community and the natural springs. After 6 months in the Amazon, walking through the dry tropical forest and coastal scrub felt almost like our dry, southern California home. I felt like I was in Jamul (Four Corners area, to be exact) along the dusty trails of the community, with its horses and goats and… marine iguanas? Ok, so it wasn't exactly like SoCal, but a friend remarked that it reminded him of West Africa. One way or another, it was decidedly different than what we've grown accustomed to. We made it to the natural springs where young Ecuadorian girls and old European men bathed in the sulfur-smelling water and mud. Only Juan Pablo was brave enough to go in while the rest of us took a break in the shade. On the way back to the main part of the village, we climbed a lookout tower where we could plainly see the stark differences between the dry tropical forest and the coastal desert scrub, then headed back for lunch.

Finally, we left Agua Blanca and headed to Los Frailes, an untouched beach protected by PNM. It was absolutely beautiful. White sand, warm, clear water, and trash-free – it was basically paradise. Every one of us – bosses, park guards, and all – jumped in the ocean and played in the water, splashing and diving and flipping in the waves like a bunch of little kids. I could have spent all day there, and the water was even more appreciated after a few hours of hiking along dusty trails. Unfortunately, our afternoon of beach time had to come to an end, so we all piled back into the bus, but not before Daniel bought himself a genuine "Panama" hat. ("Panama hat" is actually a misnomer, which originated from the introduction of Ecuadorian woven straw hats to the world market through trading in Panama. For a really interesting look at the history of these hats, see Tom Miller's The Panama Hat Trail.)

One lovely dinner and a good nights' sleep later, we headed back to the rainforest. The trip was fantastic and time spent with our counterparts and the park guards was invaluable. It was perhaps not the most conventional of Thanksgivings, but a happy one.

For more pictures from our trip, check out our Picasa site: Agua Blanca + Los Frailes

*** *** ***

The rest of December was a whirlwind of celebrations and visitors. A good friend at work was thoroughly stunned when the office threw her a surprise birthday party. Daniel's 31^st birthday lasted for three days and included shish kabob, a beautiful hike, getting caught in the rain, steak dinner, and lots of time with friends. Christmas Eve was spent at a community in the jungle with our friend Mary where we were not only witnesses to but participants in their pageant (as jurors of the beauty queen portion) and did the Kichwa shuffle with older women and the less reluctant little boys.

This, of course, was followed by karaoke and Chinese food back in Tena. Christmas day was a bit more traditional. Ben and John spent the night and we had pancakes and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation for breakfast, and then sweated profusely through the preparation of Christmas dinner at Mary's house – turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and all! (I finally got my Thanksgiving meal!) Sarah's family came to visit and we got to share with them all the fun that Tena has to offer.

We rang in the New Year with many different friends at a town center rooftop party, until we all moved to the street and eventually to the dance club. It was a cheerful evening (and early morning) that mixed American tradition (countdown, midnight kisses) with Ecuadorian tradition (burning effigies, jumping over bonfires) and shared traditions (champagne, firecrackers) all concluding in a lot of dancing. It was an exceptional end to what had been an amazing year.

On January 2, my parents came down for a quick visit, which was packed with friends, adventure, and many great meals. We took trips to see the villages of neighboring Peace Corps Volunteers, watched Mary interviewed on the local news station promoting her foundation (Amazon Partnerships Foundation) and her film on climate change in the Ecuadorian Amazon, and spent the night in the jungle at a beautiful resort. It was a truly extraordinary trip.

Now that we've come to the end of the crazy holiday season, I'm grateful things have finally started to get back to normal. The coming year promises to be filled with more adventure, interesting work, and continued escapades with great friends and colleagues.

An unusual Thanksgiving

2009-12-07T17:30:00.002-05:00

Mom and Dad,

This year may be the very strangest yet, Thanksgiving-wise. Even all the Las Vegas buffet dinners for turkey day shootouts were more normal than this. The original plan was to go down to El Tesoro, outside of Macas and spend the weekend at Mike's house. We were going to have a good ol' potluck, American-style Thanksgiving dinner, slightly modified to accommodate slightly different weather and resources. Mike is even planning to slaughter a turkey or two to serve as the main course. However, the Parque Nacional Sumaco is taking a trip to the coast for an exchange with a national park out there that will include a visit to the Isla de la Plata (aka the poor man's Galapagos). It is a chance we simply can't pass up. So instead of stuffing our faces with familiar food with our closest American friends in Ecuador, we'll be with a bus full of Ecuadorian park guards learning about ecotourism and tasting the food of the Ecuadorian coast. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't disappointed about missing the familiar parts of my favorite holiday, but I am excited about the chance to see more of the country and participate in a one of a kind trip.

This year I'm thankful for new friends (Ecuadorian, German, and Peace Corps alike), unique opportunities, and the support of my family from afar. I'll miss being with the family this year, but I want you to know that we are thinking about you and grateful for all the amazing things in our lives.

Love you!
Laurel + Daniel

-Email sent to Laurel's parents Thanksgiving week

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

To kick off our crazy Thanksgiving weekend we attended a CD release party for Sonidos del Sumaco at the dance club in town with live performances by the artists featured on the album. Sonidos is a collection of songs written about the park, the environment, environmental conservation, and cultural values of the region produced by the park and a German development organization. While I only played a small part in the project (translating the songs into English), friends of ours had lots of influence over the project and it was very rewarding to see all of their hard work come to fruition in such a well made product and successful release party. One of the most popular songs on the album is "Guardaparques del Sumaco", a song about the work of the park rangers which mentions each of them by name. Needless to say, they got a big kick out of that one.

As the party wound down and people started to disperse, Daniel and I joined the park rangers and other Parque Nacional Sumaco personnel on a bus heading for the coast.

Thursday, November 26, 2009 – Thanksgiving day

Our bus finally pulled out of Tena around 2am. Happy Thanksgiving! Our 15 hour bus ride took us through the cloud forest and the park, into the páramo, up over the Andes mountains, past Quito, down again into the cloud forest and then the flatlands, along the dry tropical forest, and finally to the coast. We arrived in Puerto Lopez around 5pm and went directly to the Machalilla (mah-cha-LEE-ya) National Park's offices downtown. We were greeted by friendly park rangers who showed us to a nearby hostel and gave us dinner recommendations. Exhausted and stiff from a long day on the bus, we all headed down to the beach for a walk in the sand before dinner.
For me, it was the first time seeing the ocean for the longest stretch of my life – nearly 9 months. For some of the veteran park rangers, it had been 4 years since their last trip to the coast. But for a few, it was their first ever trip to the Pacific. Seeing the beach and the kids playing volleyball and soccer in the sand, drinking a cold beer with friends – the whole experience made me feel like I was back at home. For Thanksgiving dinner, Daniel and I ate shrimp and calamari. Not quite turkey and stuffing, but delicious nonetheless.

Friday, November 27, 2009 – Isla de la Plata

After breakfast, Daniel and I, along with the park personnel, made our way down to the water (between the fishermen hauling in the morning's catch) to meet the park rangers from Machalilla who would be taking us out to the Isla de la Plata. The island is just over an hour's boat ride from Puerto Lopez and is commonly referred to as the "poor man's Galapagos" here in Ecuador. After getting to meet the park rangers and a brief introduction, we split into two groups to explore the two main trails on the island. Not ten minutes into our hike, we came across our first pair of blue-footed boobies! The outgoing birds danced and whistled, and squawked when we got too close.

Further along the trail we came across the magnificent frigate birds. When they are in mating season, the male frigates have a very large, red balloon of skin below their beaks which they use to lure in females. Not being mating season, we were unable to see the balloons, but they were beautiful nevertheless.

Not too far from the frigate nests there was a tree full of red-footed boobies. Nesting in trees rather than the ground makes them more difficult to see, but fortunately we had an opportunity to get fairly close to a few nests. Strangely enough, the red-footed boobies are much more vulnerable than the blue-footed boobies on the island. During the last El Niño year, nearly all the nesting pairs lost their nests and eggs in the storms. Currently, there are approximately 20 nesting pairs of red-footed boobies on the island.

Finally we found the masked boobies. Not as entertaining as the blue-footed, but much more beautiful than the red-footed, the masked boobies were elegant and aggressive.

After a few hours of hiking and taking pictures, we looped back around to the ranger station and our boats to go to a different part of the island for lunch and a little swim. The park rangers were skeptical of snorkeling, but eventually a few jumped in to swim with the clown fish. On our way back to the mainland, I met a returned PCV on the boat who was planning on living in Ecuador for a few months starting in January for a fellows program through the Federal Highway Administration's watershed health department. As a former forestry volunteer, he was interested to hear about our work with the park in the rainforest.

Back in Puerto Lopez we had another delicious seafood dinner and enjoyed the cool evening on the beach.

To be continued…

Here are some more pictures of Puerto Lopez and the Isla de la Plata.

Updates for the last two months:

2009-11-17T15:47:00.004-05:00

Puyo
Laurel and I went to Puyo, a slightly cooler (temperature-wise) city on the western Amazon border, for our Reconnect Conference in September. This is the initial in-service-training seminar. We go over our projects with our counterparts, talk creatively about other options and resources available to us, and in the end we all feel energized with new-found ideas and motivation.

One would definitely have to call it a successful week but, we were all just having a good time living in a hotel – hot water, decent food, cooler climate and the nights to hang out with fellow training class volunteers we haven’t seen in a while. Truth be told, we could have been discussing quantum physics in those seminars and I would have been happy to be there. Laurel and I typically don’t get to leave our city, instead playing host to the many volunteers that have to come into town for supplies. We’re not complaining, but it was nice to get out. Then there was Riobamba. . .

Riobamba
In Puyo we were one of three reconnect groups throughout the country. For both logistical and security reasons they split up the seminars in different regions. So what did we do? We found the most central city to all of the groups and headed that way for the weekend following the conference.

Riobamba is even higher in altitude than Quito but the climate is roughly the same. This central sierra city of approximately 140,000 is big enough to have their own Ecuadorian league professional soccer club. It was nice, I guess, but really expensive. The food was probably the best part; they had some really nice restaurants. By the time we got back to our home city on Sunday, we felt like we needed a weekend to recover from our weekend.

German Elections
I don’t recall the date but soon after Riobamba, Laurel and I found ourselves hanging out at our German friends’ house one Sunday awaiting the election results in their home country – they were throwing a party for all their German friends and invited us too. Talk about a cultural experience. We cracked the first beers a little before lunch and tried to figure out the parliamentary, multi-party, governmental system in Germany while watching results come in over the internet.

Then came lunch. Apparently there is a grocery store in Quito where one can buy giant tins of sauerkraut and respectably tasty bratwurst. We had this for lunch AND dinner. Fun day in all, if not a little strange (considering we live in the Amazon rainforest). Also, they showed us a common way to eat brats in Germany. I thought it was a bit weird at first but we later confirmed in a magazine article rating the world’s best “street meat” that this is a German delicacy on par with a New York City hot dog or a Tijuana street taco: Brat, covered in ketchup (seriously covered), with a caked-on layer of curry powder. I tried it – not bad, but I still prefer the Dijon. Oh, I forget who won the elections.

Two Year Anniversary
For the week of October the 13th, Laurel and I took a trip to Quito, catching a ride with one of our counterparts – much better, and faster than the bus. We figured we’d go to a nice restaurant, and do a little shopping at the “Mega Maxi” – an amazing incarnation of western consumerism in Quito. One feels as if they’re at an American department store, they have everything.

Our first night we went to everyone’s favorite Quito sports bar to watch Ecuador lose a disappointing final World Cup qualifying match to Uruguay. The food was good, the beer was cold and we slept in the next morning – pretty nice way to spend an anniversary. The next day, with a couple volunteer friends (Grigs and Sarah K.E.), we had lunch at an Indian restaurant in a delightful part of Quito called the “Mariscal”. The food was Indian in every way but I wonder if Indian food places in the US secretly use MSG to make you crave it all the time. This place was relatively bland.

The next day was a great cap on anniversary week. When you eat rice and chicken nearly every meal, it’s nice to do this a couple times a year – we had sushi. And, I have to say, it was really good. The next day we made it to Mega Maxi and bought bratwurst, cheese, liverwurst pate (only a buck!), new hot sauces and the anniversary gifts: Laurel got a yoga mat and I got a basketball. We met up with our counterpart for the trip home. Until. . .

Quito Again
Every time we go to Quito, the altitude and the smog always leaves you with a cough, at least, and sometimes a real cold. Laurel actually got sick. Two days after getting back from Quito she was sick enough to have to catch a ride with some other friends back to Quito to see the doctor. Not to worry anyone, she’s doing better now, just a virus, but the long travel and the altitude change is an ordeal in and of itself. You could say she was a little sluggish for a while. Then, of course, I catch her cold. I’ve been coughing for going on three weeks now but I think we’re both finally turning the corner.

Work
We’ve been doing a lot of it lately. Our hours have steadily increased so it’s felt like time has been flying by. Why, just today I looked at a calendar and realized we haven’t posted anything to our blog in two months. Sorry ‘bout that. Laurel has been asked to participate in a biodiversity monitoring project for the national park (subject of a future blog) and I’ve been steadily hacking away on the analysis and organization of the PEN-RAVA data for the bioreserve.

End of the Year
Some of our neighbors have put up Christmas trees already. I honestly didn’t know people did that down here – and so early. Then it dawned on me that they certainly don’t do Thanksgiving so the day after Día de los Muertos is probably their version of Black Friday. . . right.

Anyway, Laurel and I have confirmed a trip way down south near Macas for Thanksgiving with our old training group buddy, Mike. He’s a pretty good cook so I’m looking forward to it.

We haven’t made any solid plans for Christmas or New Years but I’ve recently been getting urges to play Bing Crosby on the iPod. Maybe we can find some place cold around here – we do have the Andes Mountains just a few hours away.

Pictures
1. Laurel presenting at Reconnect
2. Reconnect – PCVs and their counterparts
3. Daniel and Mauritz
4. Biodiversity monitoring photo by Laurel

<3 II

2009-10-13T00:00:00.000-05:00

The Amazon Dry Season

2009-08-24T11:06:00.011-05:00

To recap, Laurel and I live on the western edge of the Amazon rainforest. When the Peace Corps told us about where we would be living, they wanted to make sure we could deal with extreme heat. We said “Absolutely, so long as there’s rain in said rainforest.” See, we did a little research of our own before joining the Peace Corps and found out that this region is actually not that hot. If you’ve ever been to the South (of the U.S.), below the gnat line but above Florida, that’s what it’s like in our site – if it were summer year-round, of course.

The coast of Ecuador is actually the place one should worry about regarding heat. Our city is merely humid, which we kind of like as an opposite reality to San Diego’s skin-cracking dryness. Our city averages 77 degrees on an annual average scale. During the middle of the day it can certainly reach 95 in the sun for a couple hours, but the afternoons bring about a rain storm that you can almost set your watch to. There are even occasional cool afternoons and evenings that cause some people – and not just the locals – to wear a light jacket.

When I lived in the South Georgia farm/swamp lands amidst cotton fields and swarms of gnats, one of the most invigorating occurrences of summer’s dog days were the storms. Like one of those Coors Light commercials with the frosty cold train coming through town – the storms were the reprieve. Here it’s the same. Only right now we’re at the apex of the “dry season.” This means that it only rains every few days or so. The problems caused by this part of year include: no water for showers, dehydration, life slows down even more, and the cost of laundry – to have some clothes not soaked through with sweat – starts to go up.

Because we’re essentially on the equator, we don’t have seasons or daylight savings like we’re used to. The old days of anticipating “sweater weather” are gone. Here you can expect the same weather 10 months out of the year. During July and August however, the Ecuadorian Amazon is as hot as the coast. We had some friends from training who described their coastal sites with stories of sweat beads rolling down their faces all night long. That is the type of heat we were hoping to avoid. If anyone has ever read Sex Lives of Cannibals, the heat of an equatorial Pacific atoll is delightfully described in much the same way.

When we first got to our little Amazonian city we had thunder storms on a regular basis, 62 degree temperatures at night and 75 to 82 throughout the day. Now we find ourselves, amidst the dry season (which means wet season for our clothes), longing for the wet season (aka the rest of the year) when it rains so much that the calves of one’s pants are seemingly always damp from the limitations of umbrellas. Some people we’ve met genuinely hate all the rain because it is a nuisance to their daily tasks. Laurel and I went in search of it after too many years of drought in our home town. For my part, I feel much more comfortable where there are trees, moisture, and the occasional storm.

Speaking of which, Laurel’s parents just came for a visit (ha ha, just kidding Pat and Zac). When they were here they said what most people say when they first get to the Oriente, “I was expecting it to be much hotter.” So, if you ever think that the rain forest is not your kind of climate, just remember it’s not so bad after all. You can even practice by going to Savannah in the summer time (though I highly recommend the spring, they have a particularly rowdy Saint Patty’s Day party there).

One of the things we did when my in-laws were visiting this month was visit the famed orchid gardens of the city to the south of us. This city is a little bigger and a little higher in elevation so the temperature is even cooler (sometimes barely too cold for comfort at night). Anyway, like the rest of the region, they are experiencing the dry season as well. When Laurel and I visited this place a few months ago, it was rainy and cool and the orchids were lush and plenty. This last trip was remarkably disappointing by comparison – though Zac, Pat, and Erin all seemed to like it anyway.

I’m not really a botany buff so to me they just seem like pretty flowers, but these particular plants should at least be respected for their worth. In Ecuador people go to jail for stealing or illegally transporting orchids and the rest of the world buys these things for thousands of dollars, depending on the type. Amazing, all that money for a flower.

Well, the owner of the garden (which is actually an 18 acre preserve and nature trail with the orchids along the paths) was saying that he has lost a lot of orchids this season. Apparently, when more than 3 or 4 days goes by without rain, some of the delicate rainforest fauna just dies. He’s been running this garden for almost 30 years. He planted the whole preserve himself and raised it up from pasture land. And, this year is the worst (driest) on record. And the previous year was the previous worst – and so on the year before that. The moral of the story is the same thing I hear from farmers all over the Biosphere, global climate change has messed everything up.

Señor Omar Tello
Just as farmers have seasonal crops flooded during their micro-region’s supposed dry season (some are actually May and June further to the east) and drought spells during the remaining wet months, the jefe of the orchid garden is watching his preserve slowly start to die. This is a man who, along with his family and a team of researchers and volunteers, has created a livelihood out of a tourism enterprise – one that valued conservation over monoculture farming or logging. And now he’s fighting a drastic change in seasons as a result of global climate change – you know, that thing that Limbaugh and O’Riley don’t “believe” in, as if it were some heathen religion.

In all honesty, I’m not a “science” guy. All I know is, this man could care less about emission standards and hybrid technology and solar and wind power versus the lie that is “clean coal.” He just doesn’t have any interest or stake in the U.S.’s political gamesmanship. All he knows is the world he grew up in may be lost. If you were still on the fence about this topic you can take it from me, things have changed and we should do something about it. For our part, Laurel and I just hope there’s an end to the dry season this year.

Strange Situation Avoided and Revelations About Progress

2009-08-24T10:54:00.005-05:00

The other night I had a long conversation about soccer with an Ecuadorian man – in Spanish. Regarding my Spanish language abilities, I’m not exactly writing sonnets yet but I’m starting to hold my own. I still can’t roll my RRs and I tend to only understand things that are more interesting to begin with, but I’m definitely coming along nicely in my 6th month in Ecuador.

When I first got in country I spoke at a level four out of ten. This means that I could ask for a beer, supplement my limited vocabulary with hand gestures, and generally do well enough to get by without accidently ordering the guinea pig at lunch. Now, these levels are by no means representative of an evenly measured scale. Going from four to five, for instance, is much easier than going from eight to nine. It’s more like an upside down triangle: The bottom contains very little information to learn and the top, well there’s much more to it.

After 2 months of training with the Peace Corps I scored a six (a five is required to successfully complete training). This meant that I could now vaguely understand what was happening at a meeting at work, and I would know how to ask for a beer and a shot. (Maybe I should say “or” a shot – would you believe me anyway?) Incidentally, in case you all were wondering, Laurel started at a six and moved to an eight. This means she was essentially doing most of the talking when it was important. “Honey,” I would say, “I know I need the practice but could you just make sure we’re not on the bus to Peru?”

It’s been almost 4 months since training and I can honestly say that I could test out at a seven without even worrying about it. If I had the right examiner I might even score an eight. Laurel would surely score a nine – I think. A nine is the level that the Peace Corps tells us to strive for by our close of service. A ten is for those who do write sonnets in Spanish, apparently. We had one person in our training class score that high, he majored in Spanish. It definitely gets harder at the top, especially for us, working with so many strange accents.

My four primary work-mates are made up of three Ecuadorians from the coast and one German guy. This poses some problems: One, Costeños speak without finishing words. It’s a kind of accent that has formed in much the same way as the accent one would hear in a pizza parlor in the Bronx. Two, the German guy really likes to speak English and does so better than he speaks Spanish. So, I’m probably not speaking as much Spanish as I should.

However, even with my few obstacles, I’ve noticed how much easier I’ve been throwing words out there. Which brings me back to my soccer conversation: We were watching Ecuador’s two Guayaquil powerhouses play to a disappointing draw for my team, Emelec. Everything was going great and my interest was piqued when he agreed that the U.S. national team may have lost to Mexico recently, but that they are a scary team for anyone to have to play this upcoming World Cup. Then he starts telling me about his job as a petrolero and his “knowledge” of a certain Columbian separatist group…

The interesting thing I’ve noticed lately is that one’s listening comprehension skills are pretty closely related to the subject matter – not simply as a matter of subject specific lexicons but also as a matter of attention span. Meaning, when I’m in a meeting listening to someone drone on about some boring project, I find it hard to follow as a matter of focus. But, if we were all of a sudden talking about the internet problems we’ve been having at the office, then I understand everything.

So, here I am at the restaurant with some friends from work having a conversation in Spanish, feeling pretty good about myself. When, he starts telling me about his life driving back and forth from Ecuador to Colombia and dealing with bribing rebels and keeping a gun in his truck. He seemed like a really nice guy and I even shared a bit of my aforementioned shot (lowball of cheap scotch) with him, but now I had to change the subject. It was the third or fourth time that he mentioned Colombia’s infamous guerrilla faction in a prideful light that I decided to head home. I said good luck to him and I hoped I wouldn’t run into him again.

I realized later that I was able to understand every word he said and I could say anything I needed to say to get away smoothly. I guess he piqued my attention.

It’s not that I was afraid of the guy, for all I know he was exaggerating most of his loose affiliations. It’s just that I really didn’t want to make friends with someone who carries a gun in his truck. Strange situation avoided, and revelations about progress – not too bad for a Wednesday night.

I figure I’ll write a little something about my language learning progress every six months or so—mainly for posterity’s sake.

A bit of clarification: I don’t go out drinking shots on a Wednesday night, normally. First of all I couldn’t afford it. No, I only do so with my co-workers in order to practice the state religion of Ecuador – fútbol. There happened to be a big game that night (I compare the Clasico de Guayaquil to the “The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party” – the annual grudge match between Georgia and Florida, played in Jacksonville) and we all worshipped devoutly.

Spoiler Alert: Boring Work Stuff in This Article

2009-07-23T15:48:00.011-05:00

So every day I ascend a hill overlooking our community to where the offices of the National Park are located. The facilities are actually really nice. I share an office with a guy who does surveys and compiles data of the surveys in a small library of binders behind his desk (Juan Pablo). He’s also gone to the field quite often so I usually have the place to myself.

I have a computer with intermittent internet connection. I work Monday through Friday, 9 to 12:30 and 2:30 to 5:30 and sometimes 6. Though, most Fridays the whole town leaves their job early so that’s pretty cool. I usually wear jeans and a polo shirt to work, and sometimes I wear a t-shirt.

If it rains, Laurel and I spend a dollar (cab fare) to get to work without being soaked. Also, in the afternoons when we come back to work, if it’s blazing hot outside, we’ll cab it just so we’re not sweating for the first hour of the afternoon at our desks. Most of our fellow volunteers wouldn’t have to worry about their musky scent because they wouldn’t be sharing a small office with someone else. Because we’re the only ones in our office who don’t drive to work, our little splurge on taxis has become a common necessity.

Now the boring stuff. So far my job has included: cleaning the socio-economic data in Access for easier interface and export into some statistical database software; doing translations of research projects from Spanish to English (PEN-RAVA); translations of work instructions from CIFOR from English to Spanish (much harder); outlining different database options for various offices; doing some environmental monitoring; doing field surveys; attending conflict and gender issues meetings and seminars; helping out with weekend events setup; working on my report for the Peace Corps (CAT Tools), and, studying as much as I can about databases and statistical database software.

I’m beginning test runs and samples of file conventions, archive formats, ftp sites and data base concepts for storing all the socio-economic data collected at the park. I began studying some high power statistics software and brushing up on ANOVA, regression models and econometrics. I have a class on Stata, the statistics database software, this month and the book I bought from Amazon to get some extra help in English for Stata has arrived (thank you to the magical, customs-proof mailing style of the Hanscoms). I’m also playing with some open source statistical database software such as Gretl and Acastat.

I’m just getting my feet wet but I’m already a little impressed with the capabilities of these software applications. Where was Sage when I had to take calculus?

Ultimately my goal is to teach some of the técnicos at the park how to manage this stuff on their own. And, the bigger picture for the next two years includes working toward redundancy measures to be installed; implementation of development projects as recommended by the research project results; assisting in the authorship of governmental policy advice; and, submission of an application for the continuation of the project for many more years to come.

I figure the database constructions and setup may take a few months, then the instruction can begin. All the while I’m still working on the PEN RAVA report for the January deadline. Eventually some of the results I can pull from Stata will make up a bulk of the findings in the report. Possibly with some modeling, cool. Then comes the hard part, I will have to do a methodologies section in Spanish when I’m sure I’ll have difficulty understanding it in English, even having done it myself.

OK, I’ll stop with the jargon here. It’s tough to predict what exact tasks I’ll be involved with from quarter to quarter because there are so many projects going at once and we rely on support from the communities and sister organizations and their ability to catch up. As support can be prioritized for a given project, we all shift that direction to get it done. Deadlines help too.

I’m just marking the date for future reference. What did I think I was doing back in July? “Ah yes, that’s funny,” I’ll say. At least this database management stuff is pretty valuable as a skill to use in a business setting in the future. Also, the Access refresher is good to have.

From time to time I still get to leave the office for a survey. It's when I'm in the field that I get the feeling of being in the Peace Corps. Sometimes you find yourself stranded on the side of a river waiting for the next canoe and sometimes you find yourself drinking chicha. I like the mix though and Laurel is just down the hall so there is always someone else to confer with in English when something confusing happens with the schedule, which is often.

Each night Laurel and I walk home in the relative cool of the afternoon sunset. Our discussions revolve around our need to make our work fit into the definition of the word sustainable. We sometimes talk about other project ideas and what work is on the horizon. Sometimes we talk about how nice it would be to have a less structured existence, like our fellow volunteers. Then we realize how bored and crazy we would get doing something that didn’t force our hand at learning, creating and meeting deadlines. I give the Peace Corps credit for placing us where we belong.

Some Books I’ve Read Lately

2009-07-17T10:59:00.002-05:00

Everyone is running for the hills with this one. Don’t stop reading just yet… I won’t be talking about the boring classic lit or tortuous philosophy I’ve tried to engage people into conversations about in the past. In Ecuador, mostly because I don’t have cable, I’ve rediscovered the pulp novel. If anyone has any free time between their real jobs, school, children to care for and/or the lure of prime time television (I miss The Daily Show), here are a few gems I’ve run across – anyone would like them. And if you’re one of those people waiting to leave for the Peace Corps and you stumbled across our blog, these are definitely good options to bring along. And if you’re already in Ecuador, just drop me an email and we can work out a trade from our cluster’s library.

Start with The Water-Method Man by John Irving. He is the award winning writer of The Cider House Rules and The World According to Garp. A review on the back cover says it all, “Three or four times as funny as most novels.” Regardless it also has to be one of the most well developed character based works I’ve ever run across. It has kind of an American Graffiti feel to it. This book was actually recommended to me by a German guy I work with. He had a copy of it in English and if it’s any help, this alpha male, development professional’s favorite movie of all time is The Princess Bride. That should give you an idea of his sense of humor. Especially if you’re a young man dealing with (or have ever dealt with) grad school, this book will speak to you.

The Amalgamation Polka is a Civil War era novel that was recommended to me by my brother-in-law, Eric. The book was written in the language of the period (or a close facsimile). It was truly disturbing and even more enjoyable because the story revolved around things other than who won which battle. Recommended to History buffs.

The Whisky Rebels was the other book recommended to me by Eric, who is an actual historian. This one is by far the most fun I’ve had with an adventure tale since I read The Three Musketeers. It’s set around the life of a spy during the years just after the Revolutionary War. Alexander Hamilton is one of the primary characters in the novel as Secretary of the Treasury. The story revolves around the Bank of the United States and a vengeful widow who survived the harshness of Pittsburgh in the late 1700s. Intrigue and humor mix with real action and truly memorable characters. I’m still hoping for a sequel of some kind. Recommended to everyone.

Everything is Illuminated is hands down a must read. Yes, they made some kind of movie about it recently. Yes, Focus Features makes good movies, and no, I haven’t seen it. It’s a quick read and you’ll laugh out loud at some parts. Recommended to everyone.

Spin is a super pulpy, sci-fi novel that won the Hugo Award a few years ago. This is usually not my kind of reading but I couldn’t put it down. Everyone has enough geek in them to appreciate the setting and themes of this book. Recommended to everyone.

The Audacity of Hope was annoying. That’s right, I said it. I voted for him too and I have high hopes, believe me. But, I think the only reason I kept reading was to see if he would choose the end of the book for taking some climactic position. That’s the thing though, every single issue the man takes is so infuriatingly, middle-of-the-road that I kind of wish I could have had him as a professor so I could try to draw him out more. Sometimes the other side is just wrong and they deserve to loose. Interesting anecdotes though: The first time he met GWB was the best part of the book. The President says to the Freshman Senator: “You know, we do have one thing in common. We both had to debate Alan Keyes, what a nut-bag.” Or something to that effect… I guess it’s worth reading.

A Spot of Bother was just really funny British couth. Entertaining and really insightful. The author, Mark Haddon, could have been a psychologist. I recommend this to everyone.

I’ll leave out the “boring” books but you can check out the titles Laurel and I have read on the panel to the right.

Thanks Eric for the recommendations.

(Laurel’s note: These are only the thoughts and opinions of Daniel! Maybe I’ll have a book review too, one of these days.)

Sports Recap and My New Team

2009-07-07T18:00:00.005-05:00

So I’ve finally reached a consensus on which team to root for in Ecuador’s professional football league. First I’ll list the premier teams and their characteristically comparable teams in the NFL. First there is Liga or LDU Quito:
They have the most money, the largest fan base throughout the country, world class players, brand new stadium, and an impressive run in the last FIFA Club World Cup, finishing runner-up to world powerhouse Manchester United of England. For a team in Ecuador to go that far is enough to bring on a whole new generation of fans. I compare them, in every way to the New England Patriots.

Then there is El Nacional (Quito too): They are tied for most championships, historically in Ecuador’s history (Barcelona of Guayaquil is the other).
They are also owned by the Ecuadorian military, only Ecuadorians can play on their team and their fan base reminds me of the blue collar, prideful, Pittsburgh Steelers Nation.

ESPOLI is not an impressive team I just think it’s funny that the Police Academy has their own team in this league. Even though their mascot is the cock, people refer to them as pigs.

Barcelona has perhaps the largest local fan base and the largest stadium. This Guayaquil team has a storied history on and off the pitch. Their fans are by far the most violent, rowdy, drunk and belligerent. Also, they suck right now so I compare them in every way to the Raiders. Ha ha.

The other team from Guayaquil has a truly interesting story: Emelec was formed by an American named Emerson (or something like that). He was part of a cooperative of electricians in the city. So Em-elec became the name. This American didn’t even like soccer. He wanted a professional baseball league (which has never caught on in Ecuador). Eventually there grew a huge fan base as they became the other team in the west, the one not named Barcelona. Also, the area they inhabit is a hotbed of national talent. Emelec has the most championships in Ecuador when all sports are counted. Their youth training programs are the most prosperous and revered. These are my San Diego Chargers. Ride the Lightning Baby!

OK so it’s not the same thing as NFL but it’s something to do on Sundays to keep from running out of books to read. The other good thing is that the season runs year round and these club teams can qualify for a number of different tournaments pitting your team against the best in other countries as well. Emelec also happens to be in 1st place but no one really expects them to beat the Patriots – er, Liga. Just like home, gotta root for the underdog.

Founders Day Festival and the Campo Shuffle

2009-07-07T17:47:00.004-05:00

There is another volunteer in our community named John or Juan Alto (he’s kind of tall). He lives in a community 10 minutes away on a bus from our provincial capital city. He, with his long legs can do the distance on foot in 30 minutes. He’s a voracious reader and chooses many of his daily activities for the humorous value in them. Laurel and I were happy to find out that we would be living near him for two years (we could have had worse). Despite, or maybe because of the harshness of the jungle town he lives in, John possesses an admirable attitude. I wonder if he’s writing it all down for the sake of a good stand up routine one day.

John’s rowdy Kichwa community was having their founder’s day celebration one weekend and a bunch of us volunteers were invited. We showed up around 8 at night to the central basketball court with the large roof. Each of the families had constructed a booth like one might find at a summer fair. They also dragged their refrigerators out there, plugged into generators, to keep the beer cold. Our kind of party. We caught the second half of the women’s finals football match on the cement court.

We sat on some benches in John’s host family’s booth and drank Pilsners. Laurel and Ben were also there. After the game the floor opened up and the band started playing traditional Kichwa music. Kichwa music can be described as native, repetitive, loud, but somewhat modernized with the use of electric guitars, base guitars and drum sets. Each song typically takes 12 to 15 minutes and at no time does any part of the song sound different from another. Though played very loud, it is usually very reserved. The dancing follows suit.

The “campo shuffle” as we call it, is dancing like an 80 year old grandfather, barely moving your feet and arms, walking around your partner like a dance number at Buckingham Palace circa 1630. Nobody touches each other or looks you in the eye. It’s like a form of dancing was created to depict how bored you actually are. There is one thing though, beer flows freely on the dance floor. The tradition is to bring a beer out with you and pour a little in someone’s cup. Then, after they swig the beer, they take the bottle and pour into someone else’s cup. Rinse, repeat, wipe hands on pants. I was a little annoyed at first about having to share my beer (we don’t make that much money) until I saw, in all its glory, the wave of growing numbers of beer bottles on the dance floor. I eventually had more than enough people who wanted to pour beer into my cup. Awesome.

On top of that, there were three distinctive forms of hard stuff floating around. The old two liter bottles of coke with clear liquid in it, that’s the “vente-chinco” (“25 cents” in Kichwa accented Spanish). It’s called that because it costs vente cinco centavos but actually it’s crude sugarcane liquor. It also tastes like battery acid or Golden Grain – 190. Definitely go easy with that stuff. Then there is the fermented chicha, warm. This is actually not bad and resembles warm sake – kind of. Then there is the cheap box wine from the city’s grocery stores. Since I got to Ecuador I never really liked this stuff, too sweet. After the battery acid and the foul sake however, this stuff was delicious. Wash it all down with another Pilsner (the national beer of Ecuador) and do the campo shuffle. John then reminds you that this is his life.

Some people seem to be trying to convince themselves that they actually like their harsh conditions. John certainly has one of the harsher sites. While Laurel and I live in an apartment with a laundry store downstairs, John lives in a poorly built wooden structure with gaps in the boards, a bathroom that requires manual flushing, lots of biting bugs, lots of town drunks, no running water and the river is the shower and the place where you wash your clothes. But when John reminds you that he loves his site even with all of the, shall we say, colorful charm – you know he’s not trying to convince anyone of anything. I’m beginning to think that a good sense of humor is the most important coping mechanism any person could ever have.

Photo Expeditions Are Part of the Job

2009-07-07T17:31:00.004-05:00

One of our counterparts at the park, Wolf, took us out on an orientation trip to do some photography. Wolf works for the development agency DED. This is Germany’s response to Kennedy’s Peace Corps. After hearing of Kennedy’s idea, the Germans formed their own organization in support of our former President, almost as an homage. Now DED has morphed from the impoverished Peace Corps existence to a group of specialist technical advisors who get paid about the same as the US’s professional development agency USAID.

Wolf and his wife Franka do tourism development, sustainability projects and environmental monitoring. Essentially some of the same things I’ll be working on as part of the larger project team. One of the advantages of developing tourism as an alternative to logging, (you know, besides saving the planet) is that these groups need marketing and advertising materials. So, someone has to go out in the jungle and take photos of birds, bears, snakes, leopards, spiders, orchids, waterfalls, jungle skylines, Indiana Jones bridges, etc.

So, Laurel and I, Wolf and another short term volunteer from Germany named Fausto headed to a community in the transition zone to the north of us. The transition zone is one of the most beautiful places in the world in my humble opinion. It’s a little higher elevation but not too high. Some people also call it the cloud forest. Think of Colorado-size mountains but covered in rain forest jungle. Its cooler temperature makes it absolutely ideal for hiking. We hit two locations that day. The second was a trip to a lookout point that has to be seen (see accompanying photo).

Another thing we did was visit one of the beneficiaries of a sustainable agriculture project to inject more protein into local diets. Oyster mushrooms, if you know how to do it, can be grown with very little labor. These large, sand dollar type mushrooms are a great source of some of the very vitamins and minerals that the local population is missing.
Only one problem, they don’t seem to like them. The only people who eat them are the gringo volunteers, aid workers and tourists. It’s a shame because they really are good. Laurel and I bought enough to have mushrooms in every meal for a week and a half.

While in the transitional zone we were able to catch up with three other volunteers. Jeff left a couple days after we saw him and Greg and Maggie were nice enough to let us stay in their guest room for the night. It’s amazing how long a conversation can last with people you hardly know, now that we’re all so eager to speak a little English.

Perfecto Is His Name

2009-07-07T17:29:00.001-05:00

Laurel and I looked at the same furniture in all the furniture stores in the entire town. All we could think was, who the heck makes this kind of money to be able to afford this stuff? It would have been expensive even in the States.

We had heard of people having their furniture made by local carpenters but we also heard that it could take weeks or months for them to finish. Eventually I tried one. While fruitlessly trying to find a small clothes hanging pole just to get my shirts off the floor, I ran into a guy who at least seemed confident enough to give it a try. The jefe of the carpintería took me to the apartment building on the adjacent lot and showed me some things he had built. The people who lived there were more than happy to open their doors to this dusty carpenter and his giant gringo companion. It seems he made all of their furniture and it looked nice.

I first asked him to build just a book shelf and the clothes hanging thingy (essentially a pole held up by sturdy sides and a shelf on top and bottom.) He had it done by the weekend and it was a quarter of the price I would have paid in a store. I brought Laurel down to meet him when we went to pick up the stuff and she also approved. Now, he’s making us a kitchen table, a desk and chairs.

When I asked him his name after that first day he responded with “perfecto”. I said in slower Spanish, “No, what is your name, I’m Daniel.” He responded “Perfecto es mi nombre.”

We have a carpenter whose name is Perfecto. So, we got that going for us, which is nice.

Another Apartment Search

2009-07-07T17:27:00.000-05:00

In the states people typically find a place by way of Craigslist or Apartment Finder’s. In small towns in Ecuador you find a place by either knowing people who know people who know places, or you play Pac Man. I lived in a small beach community in San Diego and had to do this as well but at least there you could find discreetly hidden “For Rent” signs. As Laurel and I gobbled all the pellets on all the streets in our town, we had to look for windows without curtains in them then track down the land lord (dueño) and ask if they have any rooms for rent.

Now in Carlsbad, the San Diego beach community, it is illegal to discriminate against prospective renters. Of course they still do. The reason multiple-house-owning baby boomers don’t use want ads or online resources is because it leaves a paper trail. You have someone show up to the open house in full KISS costumes and our prospective land lords wonder how much it will cost in repairs to let them live there.

In Ecuador, it’s the same way in regards to discrimination but it’s not illegal. And, they do have an Apartment Finders of sorts. There is one guy who everyone in town goes to when they have a spot for rent. Then if you want to rent something, you go to him. He doesn’t have to keep notes or records, he just happens to know everyone in town. He took us out a few times but we didn’t actually find anything we thought would pass the Peace Corps security inspection. And, all the places we found on our own had hesitant dueños who couldn’t be sure how long any gringo would be staying in town.

One night, Laurel and I were out playing Pac Man, looking for the empty windows: We just lost a place we liked because of a scheduling conflict with Peace Corps; We were running out of pellets on the playing board to look; We ran into a dueña, closing up her shop; We were showed the first unit, nice place, too much money; The next was the same; And the next; … Eureka! The last of the four units was exactly what we could afford, the building was brand new, the layout of the flat was a little odd but it would surely pass the security test.

Our second floor, concrete box with a fly problem, plumbing issues and a noisy baker downstairs waking us up at 2:30 every morning has finally become home. At least there are no mosquitoes or ants. We cleared the board of all the pellets, free from ghostly attacks, and moved to the next level, finding furniture would prove to be just as big a project.

Gone Adentro

2009-07-07T17:12:00.005-05:00

I began a journey that spanned the reaches of the national park over the course of four days. In a Chevy pickup, gear in the back, Juan Pablo’s heavy foot behind the wheel and me sitting shotgun – we started up the twisted roads from the rain forest to the transitional zone to the north.

Our only problem was a language barrier, built by my slow listening comprehension skills and his thick coastal accent. It was a good thing that Laurel didn’t come with us, this level of immersion would be good for me. Because we were forced to converse regularly throughout the day, and because Laurel wasn’t there to fill in the gaps, I came home with a feeling of having learned something.

Our task was to ask follow up questions to families from each community in our study. Of the 32 communities we were able to visit and survey 12. Not bad for a week’s work. Almost every community in the park is difficult to get to. Either we were off-roading, hiking through the mud and dense forests, or taking a canoe.

Aside from the bits of language I was able to glean by osmosis, I learned a few customs as well. For example, when you make a house call to someone in the Amazon Rain Forest, invited or not, you now have the right to freely take fruit from that person’s fruit trees. The park guards, I think, consider this a particularly important perquisite of their jobs.

I returned bit up more than I have ever been. I must say however, in all honesty, it was my Ecuadorian counterpart who decided to come back a day early (we were originally going to be out for five days). He was the one who complained all the time about the heat and the bugs. I mostly just had fun taking in the scenery while hoping I wouldn’t have to dig the truck out of a hole. I think my Peace Corps experiences thus far have taught me to prepare for uncomfortable situations.

One day we found ourselves in a mud hut on the side of a mountain in a small Kichwa community. The native descendants of what was the Incan Empire before the Spanish arrived looked more Asian than I expected. They had no European blood in their veins. Their ancestors either were the nomadic Asiatic peoples who crossed a fabled land bridge between Alaska and Russia, or their ancestors were the Micronesian, Polynesian or Melanesian explorers who drifted onto the continent from ocean currents. Either way, it felt like I was on an Oliver Stone movie set in the middle of a Vietnamese jungle.

The women all squatted as easily as we would sit in a chair. The men all sat with legs crossed. The elder women in the hut dug through a dusty pile of kitchen wares lying on the ground. She found a bowl she liked and filled it with the chicha she was preparing on the fire pit next to her. At least with all the smoke in the hut, the bugs left us alone. She put her hand in the boiling juice and pulled out some of the pulp, squeezes it between dirt stained fingers and repeats. Chicha, the juice of chonta, extracted by the women who chew on it and spit it out, is brought to a boil and served in a cereal size bowl. The men drink it in order to feel full during their midday meal or at night. The custom is to finish the bowl in your hand, filled to the brim, in one turn. I’ve been able to do it each time but I’ve also felt like projectile vomiting each time. Between this and the grubs, I’m ready for Fear Factor.

There is another way of making chicha that tastes like bad wine. This is actually the good stuff but it takes three days to ferment. The stuff we had that day was probably in the old woman’s mouth an hour before, no time to ferment into anything that could get you drunk. The unfermented version is simply a dietary supplement. They think that if you feel full, that you must be full. Of course they are all malnourished because they only eat platano, yucca and the occasional egg or fish. The most calories a man ingests usually comes from the beer he drinks on the weekends – if he was able to sell something that week. Because of these dietary norms, one notices the distended belly has become part of the recognized form of the human body.

The great thing about Ecuador is that there are so many freely available resources that any farmer worth his salt can live a long and fairly happy life just by staking a claim in the jungle. Everything grows, and everything grows fast. Subsistence farming may be easier here than anywhere else in the world. The problem is the lack of protein for those who can’t afford chickens or trout ponds.

Coming back I couldn’t help but think that people from the west spend lots of money to have a four day trip like the one I just completed. I’m starting to really like my job.

Swearing-In Ceremony

2009-05-25T16:05:00.000-05:00

Host Family + Home During Training

2009-05-25T15:41:00.004-05:00

Projects

2009-05-07T13:46:00.000-05:00

For all of those interested, I have compiled a survey of sorts of the projects I may be involved with over the course of the next two years.

To start, my primary responsibilities will involve working at the National Park on reforestation and agro forestry surveys. I am charged with helping manage the database of socioeconomic data for the 32 communities in my region. There is even a project in the works to standardize the database platform, moving the park from a basic Access interface to a proprietary build with more functionality. I will be working with a CIFOR partner out of Norway to stream line the transfer. Apparently he has trouble with Spanish and the guys from the park have trouble with English.

Objectives include but are not limited to: Analysis of the role of forestry resources as they affect household incomes and the local rural economy; Finding the root factors that cause people to involve themselves in deforestation measures (and defining what measures, large and small those may be); Breaking down, into representative figures, the tendencies of rural household incomes among native and mestizo families in the region; Determining the poverty levels of the region according to international standards/definitions; And finally, determining the value of the local resources (rain forest) as a portion of all income in a median and average family.

My secondary work load may involve assisting the local cacao cooperative in their business ventures. Laurel will be doing much more of this as it concerns overall organization. Kallari is an organization of 21 Kichwa (or Quechwa) communities and a handful of mestizo communities that have a contract to sell their raw materials to processors and distributors around Europe and the United States. Whole Foods signed their biggest contract yet – earning more than a billion dollars for Kaillari over an unspecified time frame. Whole Foods is currently selling Kaillari candy bars in the states.

The value added item to this product is that they are certified, to some extent, through an organic farming certifying body and through the coveted Rainforest Alliance. They are essentially certifying that Kaillari farmers grow their cacao within the rainforest, not cutting it down for more efficient monoculture.

For this group I will be offering my assistance in the field of business development and planning. I have been asked to work on their business plan from the raw materials sales side. There is a marketing professional working from the states with whom Laurel and I may also be working.

There is also an opportunity for me to work on education projects for local schools from the Park. Preparing lesson plans and teaching natural resources conservation to school children on field trips will serve as the bulk of this project. I may, however, have to develop the field trips as well. The Park has wonderful facilities for such a thing and I don’t know yet if it is currently part of their work load here.

My hopeful flier: a project that I would greatly like to involve myself with is the development or growth of a truly not-for-profit lending institution handling micro-loans at very little interest (or none depending on need). I have some ideas for this sketched out in much longer form but suffice it to say that I will be looking for a backing institution that is willing to put up the capital for this project. The idea is that this non-profit would act as a real bank, leveraging capital and managing deposits. We’ll see.

Finally, among my other work projects, I would like to possibly teach baseball to children who are interested. I have inherited some equipment from a like-minded baseball fanatic who just finished his two years in the Peace Corps. I was probably the right person to give the equipment to but I’ve been hearing stories about other sites more suited for that. Again, we’ll see.

I have also started to cultivate some extra-curricular activities that sound promising. First off, our Omnibus (group of volunteers who go through training together) has decided to bring back the Ecuador Peace Corps Volunteer Magazine. We are currently working out the details but we should begin accepting submissions from volunteers in the next couple of weeks. We will publish quarterly beginning in September. For the Magazine I will start out as Managing Editor and directing the OP/ED Page (though we will call it Commentary and Editor’s Notes). Also, Laurel will be working as the Science Editor.

After a few quarterly issues the Editor’s Committee will surely change to include more people from other training groups. As of now it is comprised of 6 people from our training group. The objective is to foster an academic repository for circulation of development techniques in the four core disciplines that the Peace Corps serves in Ecuador. Of course, there will also be content more focused on fun and humor.

One of the ways we would like to make a difference with the Magazine where other attempts have failed is through helping to fund small project loans. The main governing committee of Peace Corps volunteers, the Volunteer Action Committee (VAC), takes applications for small loans from community projects. The Magazine will support this cause for an undetermined sum per issue. Also, we’ve yet to name this publication so any suggestions would be appreciated.

As far as my extra-curricular activities are concerned, I would also like to work as a technical advisor for other volunteers in country in the field of business development. I’ve had some requests for this already; I just have to wait for my initial three months to be up in order to travel away from our site.

Then, there are personal goals for my free time. I wrote a post about some of these things a couple of months ago, but here are the ones that pertain to me: continue my personal studies of International Political Economy, learn to speak German (there are lots of Germans in my community), study for and take the foreign service exam, study for and take the GRE – again (it’s been more than 5 years), continue to progress in my Spanish learning, and learn to Kayak.

I want to mention that I feel lucky that there seems to be so many things to do here. I have friends in other sites with very few tasks, only instructions to create something useful and sustainable. In many ways I envy them but I have to admit that this set of goals is interesting and challenging enough, if things go as planned. I will do a follow up report on the progress of these specific goals as we move along.

For security reasons I have taken out parts of this article that could give a clue to my exact site location. I don’t know why this is a big deal, it’s just what the Peace Corps said I should do. If anyone has any questions about the projects taking place here or just how things are going, please feel free to contact me at daniel.howardjr@gmail.com.

Site Visit and Changing Attitudes

2009-04-05T16:18:00.000-05:00

Ben and I finished our tour of the Park offices and found ourselves sitting on a split, lacquered eucalyptus trunk made into a bench along the outside walk of the compound. Above us, palm frond roofing allowing relief from the regular rains for workers making their way from the Municipio de Agricultura to the offices of the Parque. That day it didn’t rain but the effect of this design made us feel like we were in some tourist facility awaiting our turn on a ride through Jurassic Park. Ben also works at the park but he’ll spend most of his time in the interior, some two hours from here.

We are told that waiting is a way of life in the rainforest. Ben and I are only visiting the site we’ll be working in for the next two years, so there is little for us to do and few people with time to humor us. I don’t think Ben or I mind the down time very much, training has been duro.

After lunch I try walking in the mid-day heat 35 minutes to our hostel to meet up with Laurel. Honestly, I didn’t want to walk in the heat but I couldn’t remember how to give a taxi driver directions to where we were staying. The temperature was oppressive but at this lower altitude, I was just happy enough to be able to breathe. There’s a feeling that the massive amount of trees has something to do with it being easier to inhale, whether it’s true or not.

Laurel spent the morning at the Centro de Acopio for the cacao co-op she’ll be working with. I accompanied her in the afternoon so she could give me the tour she was given earlier in the day. We’ve been trying our best to describe the delicious aroma of fermenting cacao beans to some of our fellow volunteers but nothing seems to sufficiently hit the mark. The closest thing is chocolate liquor but the cacao is much stronger.

Our counterparts seemed happy enough with our questions and responses when discussing our future roles with these organizations.

The following two days were spent exploring some farms in the campo, through dense rain forest, with our counterpart from the co-op. Also, I showed Laurel the GIS facilities at the Park offices. In the evenings we explored the city and sampled some food. We watched Ecuador play to two ties in three days: One to Brazil which was disheartening because Ecuador is nearly impossible to beat when the game is at altitude; the other was a heart-wrenching tie to Paraguay in the final seconds of extra time. It was as if a natural disaster had occurred. That final goal, it was reported, may keep Ecuador out of the World Cup.

The night came and brought the temperature down to a perfect 70 degrees. Laurel and I are pretty excited that t-shirts and sandals are worn all day, every day. This is quite a change from the Sierra. The last night in town, all of our fellow trainees in Omnibus 101 who were stationed in the surrounding area met up in the city for dinner. The rains we heard about finally came. The temperature dropped to a cool 62 degrees and the sky seemed permanently lit up from the lightening storm.

The restaurant we were at had a backup generator but the rest of the city was blacked out for a couple hours. The people there acted as if this happens all the time. Kind of like that scene in L.A. Story, where Steve Martin and his friends are all “lunching” in some nice restaurant in Los Angeles: An out of town friend starts to freak out a little as an earthquake shakes the table. All the people from LA act as if this happens all the time, passing dishes, toasting glasses and guessing casually what size the quake would register on the Richter scale, to be reported on the nightly news in much the same way the daily highs and lows would be.

I think we all played it cool, but Laurel and I – being from Southern California – were definitely enjoying the strange and exciting new weather patterns around us.
There were other volunteers getting ready to finish their two years of service. They were eager to return to the States, but were full of interesting anecdotes and words of wisdom. There was something else about them too: They were hardened a bit. They had spent the last two years dealing with varying degrees of failure and minimal success and now they were a little cynical about their roles in this country. I certainly can’t blame them, I haven’t lived two years in the Amazon rainforest but their tough demeanors seemed more like the result of a systematically applied balm of cynicism whenever they needed protection from the difficulties of life here. Like many people use humor in sticky situations, this crew of volunteers used harsh realism as personal perspectives on life to deal with high expectations, naiveté, and failed projects.

I feel like Laurel and I are well aware of the batting averages for development projects. USAID doesn’t even make the Mendoza line in terms of success. At the level we will be working, witnessed accomplishments would only be a surprise. The projects we work on here are things that may take years of failure before the impetus is born to allow some measure of victory.

There is also something attractive about the hardened, experienced volunteer. I feel like this may even be a goal of some people to become this way. We think we can maintain something positive within ourselves even after two years. Hopefully, there will be successes to help us with this process.

Back to the mountains, and the cold, and to taking deep breaths. In another week, we’ll be returning to our city and some surrounding cities with more volunteers for technical training. We can’t wait.

5/4/2009 Daniel

The Plans and Identities We Make

2009-03-23T13:58:00.000-05:00

There are jokes, yes, about divine beings laughing as mortals attempt to control their known universe. One wonders how loud the guffaws mount around the lives of soon-to-be-Peace-Corps-Volunteers. Depending on the time that passes between application and the rise of landing gear, each trainee has lived a considerable amount of time preoccupied with planning for the unknown. Getting in country hasn’t stopped the onslaught of preparation. There are forty-four aimless beings, planned to the hilt, desperately constructing identities to shine from within the crowd. The one thing missing, the one thing that could complete the related tasks of creating identities and truly planning for a known future, the one thing all trainees suffer over, . . . The luck of it, the mad genius of it, the seemingly divine question each woken person asks themselves, “why am I here?”

On Tuesday, March 24th, the one hundred and first omnibus of Peace Corps newbies, lucky enough to draw Ecuador in the first place, will finally find out the name of the town they will call home for the next two years.

The four weeks up to this point have been exciting on two fronts: Nobody knows anything and nobody is anybody, yet. For the first time, these intelligent, diverse and energetic young adults are finding out how hard it is to live sans identity. Not homeless, but certainly without roots. Sojourners or vagabonds, there is a part of us that wants the final piece to a puzzle to make us recognizably human the way we know humans to be – with a place to call home.

Endless conversations have taken place over the difference in preference between the Coastal, Sierra and Oriente regions in which we could live. Whispers about cloud forests and transition zones, Cuenca and Cotacachi, the unknown language of Kichwa and the unknown dangers of Guyaquil – abound. Some wish for the shallow, easy breaths of the lower altitudes, others will take the cold of the Andes over the bug bites that await them in the Oriente. Others only wish to have more fun with the more liberal people of the Coastal region. But of course everyone finishes their conversations with the disclaimer, “I really don’t have a preference, I can be flexible.”

The first buzzword learned when applying for the Peace Corps – “flexible.”

Yes, it is this very missing place in our lives that keeps the shy ones in their shell, and forces the extroverts to use their best material in any conversation. But it is the jobs that we will do in our new homes that really clinch the deed. How many business professionals will become experts in shit (manure)? How many liberal arts majors will constantly live with dirt under fingernails and sweat all day as easily as breathing? This in fact may be the final piece of the identity puzzle except that we will all find a new way to define ourselves with a new and dangerous past once we get back to the States. No, this Tuesday will only be the first glimpse of light any of us has seen since the dream of interstate adventures first took hold. At least now we’ll know how to pack.

Here is a list of things to do, a plan if you will (yes I’m awaiting the laughter). These are things that some of us have expressed a wish to experience. Not all are mine, or my wife’s, and surely no one will accomplish as much as they dreamed. But maybe we’ll be lucky enough to accomplish something we never knew we wanted to do. . .

1. Make a difference in someone’s life
2. Find some measure of success in our projects
3. See the Galapagos
4. Plant a garden
5. Read every book we never had time to read before
6. Learn to cook
7. Hike up to the Cloud City of Peru and/or hike the Inca Trail
8. Make the kind of friends that we’ll never forget
9. Teach children and adults
10. Become a leader in a community
11. Never take credit for hard work done for the benefit of others
12. Learn to play the guitar
13. Become expertly fluent in Spanish
14. Construct something
15. Hand projects off sustainably
16. Lose weight
17. Study for the GRE/MCAT/LSAT/FSE etc.
18. Take a trip to Quito to take the GRE/MCAT/LSAT/FSE etc.
19. Work with an NGO
20. Start an NGO
21. Find something to do upon return to the States
22. Write a memoir/novel
23. Do a third year
24. Have an Ecua-boyfriend/girlfriend
25. Take a canoe through the Amazon
26. Hike to the top of a snow capped volcano
27. Build furniture
28. Use a machete in your daily life
29. Plant trees
30. Save the mangroves
31. Build a park
32. Sleep in a hammock
33. Wear native clothing and shoes
34. Give away more stuff than you accumulate
35. Become a fan of your local futbol club
36. Get together with some friends for the World Cup in Summer 2010
37. Learn to dance like the locals
38. Eat a cuy and drink spit fermented alcohol (what’s that stuff called again?)
39. Invite friends and family to visit (like working for the Ecuadorian Tourism Board)
40. Wear sunscreen
41. Visit Santiago for Christmas one year
42. Never get Dengue Fever

Remember the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy? Don’t Panic! Always bring a towel, and the answer to the meaning of everything is undoubtedly, unchangeably, 42.

This is my first time posting to a blog. I wanted to sum up the last four weeks of training and construct a time capsule of sorts. This list and my interpretation of our state of mind should serve well as a plan to laugh at two years from now. Maybe that’s what they mean about divine beings laughing at the feeble plans of mortals. Time is definitely the only thing we truly have to count on here.

Daniel / 22-03-09

ECUADOR!

2008-11-26T17:57:00.000-05:00

New departure date: 24 February 2009