Oh Susana, Enséñame

When Shannon and I found out we were moving to South America, one of our first thoughts was how we were going to get our Spanish speaking to a proficient level. I had taken a few years throughout my own schooling as did Shannon but we both realized it wasn't quite enough. We also had a little bit of an opportunity to practice our limited skills due to the fact that we both lived and worked in Florida. But again, our Spanish was nowhere near the level it needed to be if we were going to be living in a Spanish-speaking country.

When we first got to Ecuador, we were quickly thrown into the fire and learned quite a bit through necessity. We developed a very rudimentary vocabulary based on our conversations with taxi drivers, grocery store clerks, restaurant waiters, and at the market while haggling for better prices. The school offered a one day per week, two hour class on Mondays but with the large class sizes and the clear annoyance of the teacher being tasked with teaching us, we decided that the class was not for us.

That was about all we could afford to spare with regards to time. We were so overwhelmed by the cultural differences, adjusting to new jobs, furnishing our home, finding our home, getting Howie here, and eventually coaching sports. Free time is not something one should expect when they first move to a new country.

About three weeks ago however, we realized that we were settling in to a somewhat normal routine and actually found ourselves with a tiny bit of time. We decided to take that time and devote it towards learning the language of our neighbors. We both discussed how not only would it be rude to refuse to assimilate in some what to the country which we resided, but it would also make our lives easier if we learned Spanish. Another consideration is that we both felt we would be highly disappointed in ourselves if we lived in another country and never mastered (to some level) Spanish. Language and culture acquisition were two of the biggest reasons we decided to go overseas and we were set to make some progress.

After talking to a few teachers who had similar feelings about learning Spanish, we found out that the language schools here are a booming business and relatively reasonable. People looking to learn Spanish in Quito have a myriad of options. You could go to a language school once or twice per week for $7 per hour per person. This seemed absolutely reasonable to us but the drawbacks were that you would be in a larger class instead of in a more intimate one on one situation, and we live about a half hour to forty minutes away from the school. I could certainly see myself coming home after a long day and deciding to forego the $7 and stay home. The other option, the one we chose, was that you could have a Spanish teacher come to your home and give you a private lesson for one hour per session for $10 per person. We obviously decided to choose that option.

In the few weeks that we've been working with Susana, our private tutor, our Spanish has progressed quite a bit. She assesses us on the fly for what we know and adjusts the lessons accordingly instead of fitting us into a neat little box of beginner, intermediate, expert. She prepares homework assignments, and instead of simply lecturing us, she converses with us. We have conversations at the dining room table about a variety of topics at our level.

It has been a wonderful experience so far and I look forward to continuing to progress.

Have a Nice Lunch

Today during lunch, our Middle School Principal walked up to a group (myself included) of teachers eating lunch. He had his hand over a cup much like a person would if they were walking with a cup of hot soup to make sure it didn't spill.

When he got to the table we asked what was in the cup and he removed his hand to show a nice little black scorpion in the bottom of the cup. Apparently a teacher found it in one of their classroom during a class.

There is no long winded allegory involved in this story, I just found it interesting that even up in the mountains of Ecuador we find stuff like this roaming our halls and classes.

Follow Me Mr. President

Every day between 6:45-7:15am, the President drives by. I have heard that he is taking his child to school. I have heard he’s on his way to work. Who knows. All I do know is that when he drives by, it is with a full motorcade of about 4-6 motorcycles and 3-5 tinted out black SUVs. I also know that a week and a half ago, I became part of that motorcade.

If you've ever seen a motorcade or even any TV show or movie set in Washington D.C, you know the drill. A scout vehicle rides up ahead and stops traffic so the rest of the convoy can go forward. The President naturally gets precedent. This is no different in Ecuador. Also, the implication is that if you mess with the motorcade, you will be shot or thrown in jail with quickness. This is also no different in Ecuador.

So to set the scene, we live about 10 minutes away from school by foot. It’s a smoggy uphill walk but a nice one most days. On this particular day, I was running late and also planned on going to the grocery store after school. Shannon was sick and I was planning on picking up some stuff for her to make soup. As a result, I took the car to work.

At the top of the hill, where we normally turn right, I was yielding like a good citizen when traffic stopped coming. I figured it was a day like any other and it would be my time to dart into the road and merge while there was a momentary lapse in traffic. Traffic is terrible in Quito and you have to take every opportunity you can to get on to the road you desire. I did not see that the reason for the break in traffic was the Presidential motorcade scout motorcycle. As I made my turn I quickly realized that I had merged directly into the motorcade. There were scout motorcycles in front of me and black SUVs behind me. I was terrified for my life and for my prospects as a new character in the Ecuadorian vision of Shawshank Redemption. Luckily for me, we cruised along for about five minutes without anyone stopping me. I made my right hand turn into the school parking lot and no one bothered me once. I effectively had the President escort me through traffic to get to school quicker with no consequences.

Just another day in the life of an ignorant American abroad.