Boy, you’ve gotten fat…and beautiful

November 1, 2008
Saturday
7:00am
Sayausi

It seems that after six months of being in our site we have started to fall into a routine of some sorts which has distracted us from attending to our blog. Furthermore, due to the said established routine this blog may seem to lack the usual flare that I am sure you have all noticed and appreciated about our previous posts. Apparently, you can take the gringo out of the U.S. but you can’t take the task oriented nature out of the gringo.


Mary’s “Work”

In the past four weeks I think I have officially crossed the line into to being Peace Corps busy. Granted this is a relative term both within Peace Corps and certainly in comparison to what “busy” may mean to someone working in the great U.S. of A. As of right now from 7:30am until 12:00pm Tuesday through Friday I am working. Yes, that’s right for a total of eighteen hours per week (including the many break-citos within those hours to tomar a pan-cito y platicar i.e. chat with my “colleagues” while work is supposed to be happening…just for clarification this chatting and snacking is not because of me, it is actually built in to the typical Ecuadorian work day)

So, what may you ask am I doing besides snacking, engordaring, and gossiping during these self-described work-hours? Well, on Wednesdays and Thursdays I walk up the road from the plaza to Bellavista Elementary School (it actually has a more official name, or names rather, but I can’t remember all eight of them so I just call it la escuela de Bellavista despite being corrected a number of times about its actual litany of names). At this school I am currently giving English classes, trying to start up a school garden, and eventually trying to elbow in some environmental education classes and possibly a world map in the future. But for now some Enlglish and a school garden, which the near constant rainfall in our town makes it a nearly impossible task, will suffice. Below is outline of what my work days consist of:

Wednesdays at La Escuela de Bellavista
Jardin: A class of twenty four-to-five year olds all wearing aprons (to keep their uniforms clean) and dripping noses shouting back at me the few words I have managed to teach them. Usually this class also includes a bathroom break where I have to dole out sheets of toilet paper and help about half of the class unbutton and re-button their pants. On occasion there is also a random crying student who needs to be sent home because they miss their mom.

Segundo de Basico: More shouting, no aprons, no bathroom assistance, less crying, and a surprisingly increased ability to retain information (then again when you’re coming from buttoning pants and wiping noses the mere ability to maintain some sort of physical upkeep is impressive).

Recreo: Also known as recess in the States, is a time where the kids run around like crazy (nothing new here) but the teachers, instead of watching over the madness, retreat to the kitchen, shut and lock the door, and sit down to eat bread, drink coffee, and talk about whatever gossip is making the rounds on that particular day (last weeks’ topic was the realization that there was a student who only had his father’s last name. “Jamas en mi vida” i.e. “Never in my life” was the resounding chorus upon hearing this piece of information, as it is the custom for every child to have a total of four names: first, middle, mother’s last name, and father’s last name. I always thought I was strange for having all those names but here it is unheard of for someone to be lacking one. I really think the teachers believed he was some sort of aberration that actually did not have a mother and just appeared on this earth by some unseemly manner).

Tercero de Basico: This is the first class I have where I can actually write something on the board and there is the slight possibility that they will be able to copy it in some form into a notebook. However, the writing of more than five words on the board takes up the entire 45 minutes as they attempt to copy it, erase it, ask me if it is OK, I say it is, they say it is not, they erase it again, and the cycle repeats.

Cuarto de Basico: This class has forty (yes forty), energetic, eager to participate, but hard to focus students that can write reasonably quickly and retain information from one week to the next. This class is obsessed with what color pen they should be using to take down the notes I put on the board and so a large portion of each day is spent discussing red pen, blue pen, pencil, should we skip a line, what do I do if I don’t have enough space on the page (well, continue on the next page I say as though I were some sort of mensa member), is that a “g” or a “y” (y’s here have to be made by the joining of two perfectly straight lines whereas only g’s and j’ have a curvy tail), and is that an “n” or a “h” (the proportion of stem to hump with the letter ‘h’ is about 10 to 1 and anything else is indistinguishable as a letter).

Thursdays at La Escuela de Bellavista
Quinto de Basico: The teacher of this class is the Director of the school and as such feels he is quite the outstanding instructor. Each time I write something on the board or explain something he will erase and re-write or excuse himself for the proceeding interjection and basically try to stage some sort of coup where he ends up teaching some other mildly related topic instead of whatever it was I had been teaching. Also, his preferred form of communication is most similar to that of a dog defending a fire hydrant; a series of barks punctuated by displays of macho-ness.

Sexto de Basico: By far my favorite class, there are only 16 students and every single one is super excited about everything. I think this is the equivalent of fifth grade in the States and so the universality of fifth graders being in a developmentally awesome stage holds true. As an added bonus, they can write quickly and the teacher just sits quietly at his desk.

Recreo: Pretty much the same as Wednesday’s recreo though the topic of the gossip usually changes.

Septimo de Basico: I usually end up teaching this class for about fifteen minutes instead of 45 as after recreo on Thursday’s the entire school formars (stands in lines according to their grade and pratices a few pseudo-militaristic exercises) and the director barks some announcements at them before calling out the names of around 60 individuals to collect some small piece of paper he has that they need to deliver to their parents. Why this task can’t be given to the teachers of the classes still confuses me. In any event, the students in this final class can learn about the same amount of material as the previous class in less than half the time but with the enthusiasm of tweens that are no longer unabashedly excited by school and are more interested in making sure their social status is maintained.

So that’s my work up in Bellavista and now I can’t leave the house without being bombarded with “Hola Senorita” by the wandering masses of the students that are finished with school at 12:00pm and have never had one of their teachers live in their neighborhood. It’s actually quite cute and does my ego wonders.

The other two days of the week I go up to Cajas National Park with Mike to give Tourism/English classes to the parkguards. Technically the classes start at eight and finish at ten but by the time the class actually starts and by the time I get a ride back down to Sayausi it is usually noon, so I count the entire time as work though in reality there’s only about an hour and half of actual work but when in Ecuador do as the Ecuadorian park employees do i.e. work equals the total amount of time it takes to do something including travel time and break-citos.


Mike’s Work

After many months of being stuck behind a desk (something Mike probably never envisioned himself doing especially while in Peace Corps) the several books he has been working on (i.e. re-writing though he will only be given credit for ‘technical revision, photographer, and translation’) are supposed to go to print this coming Tuesday! Which has been no easy task as most of the edits he has done have required access to AdobeReader which ETAPA has still not given Mike access to at his work computer and so can only use the program for a minute before it kicks him off and shuts down. This means that a majority of the work he has done was first with paper and pen and then transferred to digital format when he had access to a computer with the appropriate program; all and all tripling the time it would have taken if he had just been given the ability to use AdobeReader at his own computer (Internet access would have also made the job much easier; oh well). In any event, he finished and now, as mentioned earlier, the books are supposed to go to print. And although “supposed to” in Ecuador is the equivalent of saying “will not” it may present a possible end to desk work for the near future.

However, Mike has done such a good job with the books (he was complimented on his methodical approach to editing and his attention to detail in front of all the major jefes at the last park meeting) that he may get pinned to the desk for another round of books that didn’t make this deadline. As the newly appointed park biologist (the old one is doing a Masters in Quito and as such will be gone for the following ten months), in addition to more book editing he has been given the responsibility of designing and implementing a survey for the park guards to fill out on a regular basis that would track the number and movement of different animals in the park so that Cajas could monitor the health of its fauna (or the maybe more accurately so that is can measure the extent of the effect of cattle and horses that are in the park and should not be). It’s almost like Mike left a real job in the States only to get a more “real” job in Ecuador.

Fortunately, every now and again the park does let him out from behind the desk and one of those rare moments occurred a few weeks ago when he accompanied a team of biologists to assist with site selection for an upcoming condor study (see pictures below). The study aims to monitor the small population of Andean condors that frequent the park by luring them to particular peaks using recently slaughtered cows. The biologists will set up nearby observation points where they will sit in a relatively dry place with binoculars and wait for the condors to appear. Before cozying up in there observation points the biologists will delegate the slaughtering of cows, and all the blood and foulness that that action entails, to the park guards demonstrating the food chain that exists in the work place as well as in nature.

Another out-of-desk experience included taking a camera and park guard on a point-and-shoot tour of specific sites in the park. One of the books Mike has been working so hard on in the most recent past is a guide to all of the trails in Cajas. In this book, each trail is broken down in to several different points of interest where some specific information is given about the surrounding area. There is also supposed to be pictures from each of these points of interest. Keep the word “supposed” to be in mind. So, obviously several of these pictures were missing i.e. did not exist and so needed to be taken. So Mike, a park guard, and camera spent the day visiting these points of interest and taking pictures for the book. As a result Mike can now add to his resume part-time model and photographer. Not bad for a day’s work.

Mike also took it upon himself to break free of his desk shackles one day last week to go check up on another study going on in the park. This other study is monitoring the population of deer by measuring the amount of fecal matter found within several transects throughout Cajas. I was lucky enough to accompany Mike on this lovely, rainy, wet, cold day and trudge through the Andean paramo looking for small red strings that identified each transect. Fortunately, we were not there to count the quantity of fecal matter (though I wouldn’t be surprised if that was included in an upcoming hike). The task of finding the transects ended up being a mission of luck rather than map reading ability as these biologists had incorrectly placed the transects and so they were also incorrectly placed on the map. We did end up stumbling across one of them and despite its location everything else about was set up correctly.

Despite the likelihood of working behind a desk each day Mike continues to pack his backpack with all his hiking gear (pancho, waterproof pants, first aid kit, thermos with tea, compass, maps, binoculars, gloves, hat, emergency blanket) just for the possibility that he may find some excuse to leave his office, computer, chair, and desk behind for the day and pretend to be a real Peace Corps volunteer doing things outside the confines of Microsoft Word, Excel, and Adobe Acrobat.


Home on the Range…or more accurately the Plazoleta

Pasta
Though we are both working stiffs we still find time (somewhere outside those 18 hours per week) to enjoy the campo life. After leaving it sitting on our kitchen shelf for three months, we finally took out the pasta maker and made pasta. It was not nearly as time consuming as I originally thought it would be and I now appreciate the need for a giant wooden board (whether it be for googala or other doughs that require a well of flour for eggs to be placed within). The tile counter top is OK but the grout can be quite annoying while kneading. But it’s all worth it to use the play dough machine…I mean pasta machine that is amazingly reminiscent of a play dough machine with the added advantage that you are actually supposed to eat what comes out of it as opposed to just wanting to eat what comes out of it.

The next day we feasted on fresh pasta with tomato sauce and though the noodles are longer than I have become accustomed to, the taste was unsurpassed (at least in the land of Ecua-noodles).

Watch Mary make pasta!


Watch Mary eat pasta!


Veggies and Kichwa
Obviously we pay rent every month. Not so obviously, our landlady comes to our house each month to collect it. Even less obviously, when she comes she brings with her a giant crate filled with vegetables from her garden that she presents to us just after we give her the money for the rent. I would like to emphasize the word “crate” in the previous sentence. It is not just a mere lettuce head or bunch of carrots; it is an entire crate of vegetables (see pictures in slideshow and make sure to notice the new “window” Mike made for our kitchen). Also, keep in mind that our land lady is a fully fledged chola. That means everyday she wears a pollera, the flashy blusa, a cardigan, braids, and a chalina (a blanket worn for extra warmth when it is cold and balanced on the head when sunny, to block the sun of course).

This past month when she, her daughter, and her grandson came over with the overflowing crate of vegetables she also brought one of her other daughter’s homework for Mike to help her with. The homework was kichwa. Our chola (i.e. almost indigenous land lady) brought Mike (total gringo) her daughter’s kichwa homework. I mean we probably have the only Kichwa-Spanish dictionary in all of Sayausi and Mike has probably received more formal Kichwa instruction than anyone in Sayausi but the entire situation was still highly amusing.

Boy, you’ve gotten fat…and beautiful
This is a difficult story for me to write. But I figure for the sake of cultural exchange and humor factor it is worth putting down in a public space for the entire world to read and comment upon.

If you will recall from earlier in the post Mike and I went for a hike in Cajas on a cold, rainy day. Again, it was a cold, rainy day and as such I was wearing a long sleeve shirt, a fleece, a windbreaker, a scarf, a raincoat, jeans, and waterproof pants over my jeans. The hike took around five hours, of which four of them included large amounts of rain and wind. We had just gotten out of the back of pick up truck (which was our ride back to Sayausi form the park which means more rain and more wind) and were walking through the main street of Sayausi back our apartment when we ran into Luz Mil.

Luz Mil is also a chola, like our land lady, but a more eccentric chola with the final effect being more similar to a rodeo clown than cute and indigenous. The majority of people in our town also believe that she is a witch. In any event, she has taken quite the liking to me and is always thrilled to see me. Whenever, Mike runs into her (which is fairly often as he walks by her house on the way to work) she always asks, “Y la nina Mari? Donde esta? Como esta la nina Mari? Porque no viene aqui para visitarme. Yo hice motecito, porque no viene?” Guilt, as it turns out, is a universal tactic in trying to get people to come visit.

On this particular occasion, a month or so had passed since the last time I had seen her and so she was particularly enthused to see me on the street. We crossed over to greet her in the traditional Ecua-fashion which includes a kiss, a hug, and several exchanges of “How are you”, “How have you been”, and “How has it been going”. However, after the kisses and hugs there was no “How are you” there was no “How have you been” there was no “How has it been going”, there was only, “Oh, how fat you’ve gotten, you look so beautiful! What have you been eating to get so fat and beautiful! I can’t believe how beautiful and fat you have become!” I tried to go on the defensive with some comment about the number of layers I had on because it was so cold and so on but she countered expertly by pointing out the my face had also gotten much more beautiful and fat.

Now, I realize there are some cultural differences between here and there and for the most part I think I have adjusted well to these differences and usually do not take offense to where these differences collide. But my brain honestly and truly had no idea how to respond to someone telling me how incredibly fat I have gotten and at the same time saying how absolutely beautiful I looked. In any event, I want to hear no comments on the truth or untruth of my fatness, nor the accompanied beauty of this fatness. I will just point out that if someone here in town is sick everyone automatically says that this person has lost a lot weight and how terrible it is to lose weight. Following this logic I will assume her meaning was more along the lines of how healthy and glowing I looked and I will now monitor my ability to button my jeans.

Moving on to other less personally scrutinizing topics...

Don’t Forget to Vote
That’s it really, don’t forget to vote. We did and we are both registered in states where our votes quite literally don’t matter and we had to pay $6.00 to do it. That’s like ten ice cream cones, five full lunches, or sixty pieces of bread, quite the sacrifice (no comments about fatness here please). So, go vote…for Obama.


Don´t forget to double click to enlarge the slideshow and see the captions.