Pale Blue Eyes

Reading: A People's History of the United States by Howard Zinn

I am blessed with the burden of being an average looking female in a family of gorgeous women. Then to add salt to the wound, I have managed to surround myself by a set of beautiful friends, both physically and intangibly. For the final cherry, I chose to attend a college where the female student body looks like they walked out of a J. Crew advertisement and a regularly ranked on of the best looking college campuses. (What misogynistic ass decided that such a ranking was necessary?) The combination has always left me with a long list of self-criticisms in regards to my body image.

Luckily, the gorgeous women of my world have been coupled variety of wholesome and supportive men. (For all fairness, they are equally attractive, just as the women in my life are as wholesome and supportive as the men.) They have shown me time and time again that beauty is goes beyond your looks and that as a woman, I will always be their equal. It has left me with a sense that am I capable and entitled to my own accomplishments, counteracting my bouts of insecurity.

Joining Peace Corps and moving to Ecuador has thrown that reality into complete chaos. Suddenly, my worth as an individual human being and more so, as a woman, had little to nothing to do with my wit, intelligence, and values. Instead, I became an object of my physical attributes—my Scandinavian blue eyes, my golden brown hair, and my light complexion—and how those are valued in Ecuador’s machismo-driven culture. Here I am faced with the consciousness that I was attractive and desirable based solely on my appearance while being marginalized and objectified by this desirability. The incidents that these circumstances have bore a very visceral backlash—never have I have so vehemently hated my own skin and reactions in incites in others.

An Irresolvable Riddle

Reading: Latin American Folktales by John Bierhorst

An Ecuadorian wildflower

Another riddle for you:

Fuí a un cuarto,
Encontré un muerto,
Hablé con él
Y le saqué el secreto.

I entered a room
And found a dead man,
Spoke with him
And came away with his secrets.

Many of us who find ourselves in Peace Corps, come because of a certain incoherent skepticism we have of the United States. What we find abroad is something that is even more difficult to articulate to anyone outside of our experiences. It is a longing and love for a perceived essence of our home country while still maintaining an assortment of criticism for how that essence plays out in reality. It is a complicated and complete contradiction.

My personal inconsistency, in this sense, has been weighing on me the last few months, with little resolve. Until this morning and with the unlikely help of a guest DJ on a weekly radio show that I like to listen to. I can't say that Dan Deacon has cleared everything up for me... but his opening words to his newest record are certainly heading in the right direction.

Rodeo Days

Reading: Latin American Folktales by John Bierhorst

Opening procession

Here’s a Latin American riddle for you:

Monte blanco,
Flores negras,
Un arado,
Y cinco yeguas.

White mountains,
Black flowers,
One plow,
Five horses.

Paccha and the Canton of Atahualpa have spent the last three weeks celebrating their founding with a series of fiestas. The drawn out affair started out with a pregón dedicating the new coliseum to the canton (equivalent to a county) that involved dancing until all hours of the morning to a Maná cover band. This precursor gave way to a series of fiestas throughout the canton cumulating last weekend in Paccha with several more dances, including the beloved and gratuitous street dance. Let it be noted that Atahualpa is the only place in this country that I have encountered where it seems that Club beer is preferred to the national staple of Pilsner. Pacchenses like to keep it classy with personal 12ozers, a novel practice in this country.

Travel Updates

Reading: How We Are Hungry by Dave Eggers

What do you do when a friend from the states visits and you have some vacation days to use? Explore all of Ecuador!

So far this has included:

Hiking the rim of Quilotoa

Inti Raymi

Reading: The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz

Andean flute players, Cotacachi

When you google image search “Ecuador,” the first picture that pop up aside from the maps is an idyllic scene of an indigenous market. The second – traditionally dressed indigenous children riding a llama. It’s a justifiable assumption that first thought to come to mind when one thinks of Ecuador is a picturesque Andean scene, with snowcapped volcanoes and high-cheeked, fedora-wearing people (the general American population does not remember that Ecuador is home to the Galapagos). To be fair, it is a rational supposition, given that a third of the country could more or less be accurately described as so.

One of the perks of being in the Peace Corps is that, as a volunteer, we are often placed in the less known and less visited (and consequently, less idealized) parts of the country. That is to say, neither Chimbo nor Paccha fit the above description. Which is probably why neither make it on the typical “backpacker’s map.” Justified for the former and a shame for the latter.

Opt. Dup Zuck

Reading: Drift: the Unmooring of American Military Power by Rachel Maddow

My very sparse sala

It often feels like every month is a celebration of something. In the States, we love to dub whole months in honor of groups, ideas, or causes. Here in Ecuador, we love to commemorate children, mothers, fathers, founding of towns, founding of churches, founding of foundings. While chatting with my host dad the other evening, he explained to me with a childlike animation how we were now entering the time of fiestas here in Paccha. He then proceeded to list off some sort of celebration in every month, minus the month of April. That is to imply that eleven months of the year Ecuadorians are partying. April sucks.

So in true form, I am going to christen June my personal month of visitors. As I have managed to have someone come visit me in Paccha every weekend in June. That theme will continue into the following week as Mary Rae is coming to pasear three whole weeks on the equator with me. Our party itinerary will include, but is not limited to: Inti Raymi, the Incan fiesta del sol, and a good ol’ ‘Merican Forth of July.

Dooowop: Ecua-music

Reading: Gather the Fruit One by One: 50 Years of Amazing Peace Corps Stories, Vol II the Americas edited by Pat & Bernie Alter

I hereby dedicate this post to music. Specifically, music of the latino variety, or that is to say, music that I have become increasingly attached to while in Ecuador.

Basically, I’m feeling lazy and figured that instead of writing something lengthy I’m just going to leave you, my dear readers, with a list of songs that will forever be place holders in my mind for Ecuador. Like Don McLean’s American Pie is for summer trips to camp, the Darkness’ I Believe in a Thing Called Love is to high school, the Moldy Peaches’ Anyone Else But You is to college, and Lady Gaga’s Just Dance is to the campaign days, these songs are my quintessential Ecuador. Many may have reached that point through circumstance not allure, but alas, they are there to stay. Hopefully you will enjoy this small sampling as much as I have or if nothing else, enjoy the suspense of slowly loading each one on youtube.

A Pelar un Chancho

Reading: Land and Taxation edited by Nicolaus Tideman

A year ago, I wrote a post about the difficulties of giving up five years of being a vegetarian and embracing meat upon arriving in Ecuador (give or take a few months). Honestly, I’m not a very good meat eater. Living on my own allows me, as it did in the States, to cook as I please, which means that I have yet to buy meat in the market and still cannot tell you when a chicken breast is fully cooked. Granted, I now have random cravings for shawarma on the Malecón in Guayaquil, for a hamburger at La Cigale in Cuenca, or for a Peruvian civiche in Machala but aside from that life as an omnivore is not much different than life as a vegetarian. Except when I get invited to places.

La Calle Abierto

Reading: Sweat of the Sun, Tears of the Moon by Peter Lourie

Scene from a public bus, Guayaquil

Omnibus 105 has reached the elusive one-year mark and thus made the pilgrimage to the Tumbaco training center to spend a week together, debriefing ourselves on what exactly happened over the last year while servicing in Peace Corps. A high school reunion of sorts, most of the week was spent catching up with volunteers that we hadn’t seen since the ten weeks we spent together last April. In may also have included an inebriated talent show with prizes. But for many of us, the week long conference included something that is endemic to traveling in Latin America (and perhaps the rest of the developing world): excruciatingly long bus rides.

Viva Carnaval!

Reading: Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift

February means "summer" vacations (for the coast), hot weather, rainy season and CARNAVAL!

Foam wars, an integral part of Carnaval

This is perhaps the most fun and ridiculous holiday that I have ever experienced - really, it's a shame we don't celebrate it state side save New Orleans. Basically, it's a three day long free for all involving spray foam, water balloons, buckets, flour and eggs (nice clothes and cell phones not recommended.) Although, I have been told that it's really only celebrated at full force in select towns, otherwise Carnaval is nothing more than some rowdy kids throwing water balloons at passing motos.

Mail, Ecuastyle

Reading: As I Lay Dying by William Faulkner

So I have this really nice subscription the Economist, right? Now, I have nothing but great things to say about the publication, as they manage to get me the weekly issue in a somewhat timely fashion within at least two weeks of the publication date. Not to mention, they are excellent at reporting international news. They even extended my subscription by an issue for sending me a misprinted one... definitely quality customer service on the part of the Economist.

However, today when I stopped by the post office for the first time in a few weeks, I was surprised to see that I had three issues waiting for me... after opening them, I was shocked to see that one was dated Oct. 15th 2011. Now, given my alliance to the Economist and my not as pleasant experiences with Ecuadorian services, I think the blames on Ecuador this time. Viva la Patria!

Side note: what's the silver lining to Whitney Houston dying? Ecuadorian have improved expediently at pronouncing my name.

Mangos, Marathons and Bailes! Must be Christmas?

Reading: Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry

Okay, so for a hodge-podge of blogging, as I have no real way of weaving this into one cohesive post...

First, I've joined this folkloric dance group and we had a first competition and second performance... I have tons of pictures and I'm working on uploading videos, but youtube is so slow it's ridic... but here's one, minus the last two minutes (the women taping gave up the camera to join the dance... so it ended up in two parts)

Dia de difuntos

Reading: American Pastoral by Philip Roth

Cemetery in Tumbaco

Holidays down here always make for an interesting cultural experience. Many of them line up as far as timing, since they are often the left overs of Christian traditions, but the manner and extent to which they are celebrated varies greatly between Ecuador and the States. Halloween in the States marks the beginning of our "consumer holidays" - merchandise is cycled from Octobers witches to Novembers turkeys to Decembers santas.

In Ecuador, however, there are no costumes, youthful trick-o-treaters or drunken college parties to celebrate All Hallows Eve. Instead the emphasis falls on el dia del difuntos, the day of the dead. Whereas few Americans would think of visiting the cemetery for Halloween (I mean, whats Memorial Day for?) Ecuadorian tradition involves spending the day visiting the graves of loved ones and saying rosaries for them while attending mass.