Earthquake

I first want to say to any of our friends or family that might read this blog as a way of checking up on us, that we are fine. Neither Shannon nor I are in any harm nor were we injured. Our home also did not sustain any damage.

Now for context. This past Saturday at around 7:00pm, there was a 7.8 earthquake in Ecuador. The impact site was a small coastal town called Muisne. While the coast was the largest area affected, the entire country felt the impact, both figuratively and literally.

I was on a work trip to Peru and making my way back the night of the earthquake. When I walked into the hotel to get on our bus headed to the hotel, I was mobbed with people asking about my family and friends in Ecuador and by my colleagues. I looked at my phone and had well over 85 messages. 

The first thing I did was check Shannon's. They expressed her initial reaction to the earthquake and her fear. I was instantly home sick, guilt ridden for not being there, and anxious. After she assured me that she was alright, I checked CNN for more information and began seeing images. I will admit that temporary relief flooded me when Shannon was ok and I feel a bit guilty about that as well due to the fact that in that moment, my scope was only on her and I was glossing over the thousands of other people in my resident country who would never be the same. 

Some of the things I saw on CNN were truly horrific. While I have seen reports of natural disasters around the world before and felt sympathy, it has never struck home to me the way this did. Every image, every town, everything I saw was a place that I have been to, or been close to.  I won't post any of the photos here because by this time our readers have either seen them, or have no desire to.  I got home as quick as I could despite the minor flight delay due to the airport being shut down temporarily. I arrived a few hours later at 5am to the news that another 6.1 earthquake/aftershock took place.

By most accounts, the earthquake lasted somewhere between 30 seconds and a minute. In our area of Quito, there was not that much damage, although in the less economically developed southern sector, there were reports of quite a bit of damage. The coast, however was destroyed. For context, the coast is largely comprised of poor towns, no larger than the size of your average U.S. shopping mall. Most of the buildings, with a few exceptions are made of concrete and many do not have roofs, or windows. Structurally and architecturally speaking, it is not an area that was built to withstand what happened.  At the moment the current death toll stands at 413 with over 3,000 injured and countless more people missing beneath the rubble of crumbled buildings. 

When I got to school on Monday, I checked with each of my students before first block. I asked them how they were doing and if their families were alright. While we are an international school, about 50% of our overall population, and a good bit more of that in the Middle School, are all Ecuadorian. As the kids walked around talking, searching for some kind of normalcy I could see that they were uneasy and as I asked about their families, some of them couldn't answer me. They just looked at me with tears in their eyes and shook their heads no. As I spoke to them later in the week, I found out that quite a few of my students' family members had passed away and many had missing family members. 

It's absolutely devastating to see a tragedy so close. I saw areas of the country that I had been to. The worst part for me though, was seeing students who I have known, and whose families I have known for two years in shock and despair. Many of them have to deal with the grief of lost loved ones. Even more have to juggle realistic expectations with hope as they wait, with baited breath for resolution. As they hope for word that a family member didn't make it, or if they're lucky, a phone call explaining that they had survived despite losing everything. To see the people that are impacted by something like an earthquake of this magnitude is absolutely humbling and puts life into perspective.

This has hit home for Shannon and I. As we move forward, we are going to do everything we can to assist in rebuilding this community that has adopted us. Between food and clothing drives, blood donations, and other service projects, we are going to do everything within our power to help Ecuador cope with the reality with which it is now faced. 

While I am not one to push political, economic, or humanitarian efforts, due to the close nature of this event to our lives, I feel obligated to post some options for some of our friends, families, or strangers who may read this and want to contribute. While I know there is justifiable skepticism about many humanitarian aid organizations, the way I see it, even if the worst case scenario takes place and only some of your intended donations make it to Ecuador, every little bit helps. That donation, full or partial will go a long way in providing truly vital supplies. 

If you want to help, the following organizations are reputable and are accepting donations:

Ecuador Red Cross-Providing first aid and searching for survivors.

UNICEF-Delivering water, supplies, and medicine.

World Vision-Setting up shelters and providing supplies and medical assistance. 

Samaritan's Purse- Medical assistance, and local community outreach.

World Food Program- Food assistance to families in need.

Oxfam America-Clean water, sanitation, hygiene. 

CARE- Water, food, and shelter

Lima

This year our school sent out an email at the beginning of the year asking who wanted to go to a conference in Lima, Peru. The only catch was that we would have to present if we wanted to go. I thought to myself, "Self...This is the kind of opportunity that only comes when you live abroad. Don't be stupid, take advantage of the conference, the chance to present in front of your international colleagues, and it's a freaking trip to Peru. If you pass on this you are an idiot.

The following few weeks were spent preparing a presentation with my teaching partner, Ashley. We ended up focusing on a presentation discussing the virtues of experiential learning through emotion and learning simulations. We presented to a group of administrators as our de facto "try out" and were selected to represent the school.

I can think of worse things

A few months went by as we completely procrastinated and didn't look at it for a long time   tinkered with the presentation to make sure it was just right.

This past week we went. In fact, I am sitting under a palm tree at the school now typing this. The experience has been fantastic. We arrived early on Tuesday afternoon and spent the day walking around and exploring the city. We found ourselves along the beautiful coastline near the beach marveling at the sights and gorgeous city. We fought our way through intensely dense Lima traffic (big problem here), and explored the rich cuisine.

Ashley and I eventually presented and after it was all said and done, in addition to our experience within the city and during our presentation, we learned a lot of really cool strategies, ideas, and big picture philosophical starting points for rich conversations.

Dinner in Lima

While we were here, we also celebrated my 29th birthday with a trip to a famous steakhouse in Lima. Fantastic trip all around, and one that could have only been possible while teaching in an international school. If you would have told me three years ago that within the next five years I would be traveling to Brazil, Trinidad, and Peru to exchange experiences and ideas, I would never had believed it. I feel very fortunate and validated for having chosen to go down this path.

Flood!

When we first moved to Ecuador, we went through the settling in process. That included finding an apartment, navigating a new city, and figuring out how to do basic things in a country where people spoke a language that we did not. Shortly after we settled in, right as we were beginning to prepare ourselves for the exploration stage of moving in to a new place, the rainy season struck.

The rainy season in Quito is from October through December or so. People told us to prepare for it, and sure enough, the rain followed and held true to predictions. Quito's rainy season stands in stark contrast to our previous home, Florida. In Florida, during the summer it rains. It dumps. However, these thundering deluges usually last for about an hour or so. In Quito, the storms are usually much less vicious but they last all day.

Well, people were wrong. We were wrong. The past month in Quito has been the rainy season. Much more so than whatever was happening in November. It has rained every single day, all day for a few weeks. When we asked people about this contradiction, they said "Oh yeah, April is our rainy season..." Oh Ecuador, you slay me.

Anyway, keeping in line with the majority of our experiences related to cultural adjustment, Murphy's Law applied here. I woke up early on a recent Monday. My eyes were crusty, my spirit hadn't yet come in the form of coffee and it was cold. As I walked into the living room I felt a distinct and disappointing squish squish of a watery boogie board like crusty wet carpet. Our back patio had flooded into the living room. We lived on the second floor! It's not supposed to flood there.

Soggy carpet

Anyway, after some morning grumbling and general crankiness, (remember...still no coffee) Shannon and I mopped up the water. We propped up the rug to attempt drying it and prevent mold growth. What had just 9 hours prior been a dry fluffy carpet had morphed into a living room version of tres leches.

MMMM. Tres Leches

We had a local cleaning company pick up our rug and we did the best we could to spot dry the couch. We got a hold of our landlord and had her send a repair guy to come and fix the leak. Instead of, you know sealing the leak carefully he decided it would be best to drill holes into the wall at a downward angle. That way, if it flooded, it would just fall back outside. He just happened to ignore the fact that if he had just sealed the leak we wouldn't need holes in the wall. Of course, I made him do this before he left anyway, although he felt the holes would be sufficient. He slabbed a giant wad of silicone sealant on the wall, swiped it like a frat bro on tinder, and left it as it was. Our best lessons living abroad remain. Be flexible, and more importantly expect the unexpected.

Not exactly how I would have solved this problem.

El Porvenir

El Porvenir

After months of being closed to the public due to concerns of a possible eruption, Cotopaxi National Park has finally reopened. On a recommendation from some friends, we booked an evening at the Hacienda El Porvenir which is located right on the edge of the park and boats a spectacular view of the Cotopaxi volcano.

We were pleased to discover that this stunning retreat was no more than an hour and half drive out of town and the route provided scenic views of rolling green country side and simple farms.

Cotopaxi Looming

The hacienda is located at over 11,000 feet and the air is cold and the wind is strong. The property is an assortment of charming red clay buildings with straw rooves, wood-burning fireplaces, a horse pasture with about 20 Andean horses, and several sheep, llamas, and dogs on site. El Porvenir is situated in the midst of several cow pastures where paramo grass grows in thick clumps and mortino bushes (wild blueberry bushes) cling to the mountain ridges. And, though at the moment it was obscured by thick rainclouds, snow-capped Cotopaxi loomed just behind the hacienda.

We invited our friends who made the recommendation to join us, along with their two teenage daughters. After settling in to our respective quarters, Justin, Jimmy and I decided to take a quick walk around the property to stretch our legs and take in the view. The hacienda offered three marked foot trails, ranging from a 40 minute to a 2 hour walk. We opted for the two hour hike, which was going to take us away from the property, up the ridge behind the property, towards Cotopaxi, and then back down the ridgeline on the other side of the property – essentially a giant loop.

Cotopaxi Volcano

The first part of the trail led us to the outskirts of the property where most of the horses had retired for the day to graze on the grass and drink from little volcano-fed springs. Then, the trail made a sharp left turn and began ascending through a woody area. Up and up we climbed though the wood. Several times I attempted to taste some of the maroon-skinned wild blueberries growing in prickly bushes alongside the trail but Justin stopped me every time. Some old boy scout rule about not eating wild berries.

After about 45 minutes of walking, we crested the ridgeline and were rewarded with a spectacular view of the valley around us. Mountain ranges and volcanoes to all sides, and a patchwork quilt of green pastures below. The wind was whipping fast as the height and already I was feeling my cheeks begin to chap. I could also feel the rapidly diminishing atmosphere at this height, as I huffed and puffed noisily behind the guys. After a quick breather, we decided to go ahead and complete the trail, which up until now had been remarkably well-marked. The next 40 minutes of the hike were along the ridge, taking us toward Cotopaxi at a steady 15 degree incline.  This may not seem very steep, but when oxygen is so scarce at this elevation, it feels more like a 45 degree incline.

Getting Ready

I let the guys take the lead, and found myself where I do on virtually all mountain hikes – in the caboose, huffing and puffing like the Little Engine That Could. I find I don’t like to talk on these hikes, as my lungs are too busy keeping my alive to waste precious breath on conversation. And at no time do I find small talk more irritating when I’m oxygen deprived. So at this point in the hike my responses are usually limited to head nods and grunts.

And it was during one of my grunts to Justin when I looked up and saw the rain clouds rolling back from Cotopaxi, beginning to reveal its snow-covered peak to us. We all stopped in our tracks to process the sight in front of us. A massive volcano, its summit – draped in sparkling snow seemed almost to touch the tip of the sky. Making its name, “Neck of the Moon” quite fitting. How lucky we felt to be presented with such a magnificent site, even if only for as long as the clouds allowed.

We then continued our ascent up the ridge. I noticed that the once clearly-marked trail had vanished and could find no indication of which way we should be heading. Our friend Jimmy was confident he could see the trail down the valley and suggested we take a “shortcut.”

And here is where things take a turn.

We leave the path where we had been standing and make a sharp left, no heading down the ridge back to the valley where the hacienda sits. But the valley is nothing but cow pastures and spiky grassy bushes so the walking is difficult. The ground is covered with old cow dung, dried and bleached white from the sun. Prickly bushes, some as tall as my hip provide obstacles to finding any sort of clear foot path. Imagine if you were a flea, walking across the back of a hedgehog. Every other step you have to turn and dodge a quill. You cut left, cut right, hop over a bush, etc. We are also now going downhill somewhat steeply, so there’s the added momentum of your body weight propelling you down the ridge and throwing off your balance.

The sign at the hacienda estimated 2 hours for this hike – roundtrip. We had now been walking for close to that time and in theory would arrive back at El Porvenir in 20-30 minutes. We traversed the back of the hedgehog for nearly half an hour before coming to small gorge. It was here we realized that what our friend thought was the trail was actually a deep gorge between two pastures. And there was no trace of a trail in sight. We knew the general direction we need to head – down and left. But there was no obvious way to get there.

What transpired for the next 90 minutes can only be described as a clumsy downhill stumble that led us through unending cow pastures, down and up gorges, through flooded valleys, under and over barbed wire fences, several backtracks and recalculations back dropped against a plethora of whispered profanity. The sun, meanwhile was slowly but steadily beginning to set and the temperature to drop as we tripped, lurched, and bumbled through pasture after pasture, trying to get back on a track towards the hacienda.

I would like to add here that none of us had dressed properly for this sort of hike, thinking instead we were going on an easy stroll through the country. I was wearing soft leather boots and dress socks, and poor Jimmy was wearing cargo shorts and boat shoes.

Finally, we saw another ridge to our left. On the other side of that ridge, we were fairly sure, sat the hacienda. It was no more than 1,000 meters across yet another cow pasture and we would have the hacienda in our sights. Easy. Except for one small problem. This particular cow pasture. This cow pasture separating us from a blustery, darkening and lonely countryside and a warm hacienda with a fireplace and canelazos and fleece leggings happened to belong to a bull-fighting training farm. We could see the circular training arena down below. And within this cow pasture stood two dozen black, muscular, horned bulls. Bulls who are likely trained to fight and be aggressive with humans. Bulls who had abruptly become quite curious with our sudden appearance on the edge of their grazing field.

After a quick survey, we deemed that the bulls seemed pretty relaxed. In fact, some of them even started walking away from us. They probably won’t mind if we just cut through their little pasture here to get home. So we slowly started walking into the field. At this point, what I assume was the Boss Bull, turned to face us head-on, and took a step forward. You might say it gave the impression of “squaring us up”. Carefully and quickly, the three of us backed up again to the edge of the pasture. Boss Bull was still staring us down pretty intently. Then I had a brilliant idea. “If we join elbows and walk side-by-side-by-side, we’ll give the impression of one really large animal, and then Boss Bull won’t mess with us.” The guys found my logic to be sound. So the three of us hooked arms, me in the middle, and once again we attempted to cross the pasture. Boss Bull was not comfortable with us whatsoever, evidenced by his next quick two steps in our direction and what I can only describe as an “I dare you” stare. So we quickly backed up again out of the pasture.

It occurred to us at this moment that this is where the term bully came from. We were being bullied by a bunch of bulls. In one last ditch effort to get us home, I suggested we all try sprinting as fast as possible straight across the pasture. It was then matter-of-factly explained to me that as the smallest person with the shortest legs, I would undoubtedly be picked off with the quickness by Boss Bull.

And with no other recourse, and lacking the confidence to outrun a herd of fighting bulls, we humbly walked backward out of the pasture, back down into the gorge, and continued our wandering for another hour.

Finally, we reached a dirt road that would lead us back to the hacienda. And while we survived the bull encounter, we were not coming away unscathed. My slippery dress socks had rubbed blisters into my feet and I had scrapes on my hand from crawling under barbed wire. Jimmy had scraped knees from sliding down a tree trunk which he had used at one point to gain a vantage point on our location. And Justin’s sweater was covered in spiny brambles that he had inadvertently raked across his face in attempt to wipe his nose.

Shannon Horsin' Around

It was now dusk. Our two hour leisurely walk through the countryside turned out to be more like a four hour episode of Naked and Afraid: Andes Cow Pastures (minus the naked part). And we were only two glad to huddle up around the blazing wood fire in the hacienda’s sitting room, and warm ourselves with hot canelazos and bourbon as we regaled the girls with our harrowing tale of survival.

The next day at Porvenir was much more tranquil. After a simple scrambled egg, bread and marmalade breakfast, Justin and I went for a 2 hour (it was actually 2 hours this time) horseback riding tour back up into the ridgeline. We were outfitted with heavy alpaca fur-lined chaps, and thick wool poncho that did a remarkable job of blocking out the chilling winds.

Quietly we rode back up to the ridge with a splendid view once again of Cotopaxi. And I couldn’t help but marvel at how blessed our lives truly are. If you had told me two years ago that I would be riding horses through the Andes Mountains with Justin, surrounded by some of the most striking scenery I have ever seen, I would have laughed. But I did. And this is my life at the moment. And I’m absolutely loving it.

Train of the Volcanoes

Last week Shannon and I found ourselves in the midst of our annual Spring Break. Due to our wedding planning, honeymoon planning, and some general travel fatigue, we decided to stay in Quito for the break.

All Aboard!

Prior to moving overseas, my time as a teacher has shown me plenty of school breaks where people just hang out locally. Here, it seems that everyone instantly darts off for Chile, Peru, Argentina, or somewhere else. It's a subtle but very big difference in mindset. While I love traveling and seeing new stuff and cool places, Shannon and I also realized that we hadn't really done all of Quito and the surrounding area as well as we would have wanted. So, we decided to focus our week on seeing some of what Quito itself (and the nearby surrounding area) has to offer.

Waving with Delight

The first part of the week was filled with dentist appointments, and the like. The second half of the week we started our journey in and around Quito with a bit more vigor. We did the Papallachta hike again and spent an afternoon soaking in the pools. I won't detail that since it's very similar to the first time we went and we made a lengthy post them. In short however, it was cold and wet and muddy and awesome!

Another Quito adventure we decided to go on was the Train of the Volcanoes. The Ministry of Tourism in Quito has done an incredible job (so we've heard) remaking and repairing the local train systems. They have repaired the trains themselves, fixed up the tracks, and built tiny little stations along the rural towns to promote economic development and allow people to visit these often forgotten about areas. We had heard these trips were a great way to see the country and spend a day so we booked our tickets and got ready to roll.

Some contextual information you might need to know. The majority of Quito's finance and business interests lie in the north of the city. In general, Ecuador and Quito itself are not known as rich financial hubs, but within the city there is a clear division of wealth. Our school and our home are located in the north. The south is widely known and talked about (at least among people in the north) as the poor sector of the city. It is also known as the area of the city where crime and safety become more of a prominent concern. I have not spent much time in the southern part of the city, so I can only speak to the reputation as stated by those around me.

Anyway, the station is in the south of the city. We decided that since we didn't know whether there would be a guarded parking lot or street parking, given the reputation of the area, we would take a taxi. As soon as we arrived to the station we were impressed with the finely finished paint job, murals of Mariscal Sucre (a revolutionary general here), and the apparent organization of the building. As we pulled up and paid the taxi driver, we did, however see across the street, two police officers in a fight with a citizen. They had their billy clubs and he was clearly fighting back. I had no idea what provoked this, whether it was a crime or aggression on someone's part, but I was not interested in staying and finding out.

Rolling Green Hills Along the Way

We went into the station and checked in. Along the station there was a cafe and everyone was eagerly awaiting the chance to board. We took a few photos with the old style train and boarded. The inside of the train was clean and the layout was neat. We sat diner style (my New Jersey roots showing through). There were two bucket type seats facing each other with a small table in the middle and giant windows lining the whole thing.

Watch it Llamas

As the train set off, our car's narrator explained some of the information about the local plants and animals and she explained a cool story about the train in the area. She said since the indigenous population of the Andes were so well insulated and far away from the rest of the world, that when the trains were built there in the early 1900s, local people had never seen anything like the trains. They saw giant black things visiting intermittently spewing black smoke and thought of them as monsters. They responded by laying gifts of hand made goods, corn, and potatoes along the tracks as tribute to avoid upsetting the monsters. I thought that was a sad but fascinating story of the local area.

As we left the station and slowly meandered through South Quito, the poverty was evident, but the spirit of the people was incredible. As we passed, grown men, children, and grandparents ran out of their homes to come outside and wave to the train. This route was so new, and so many of them had never seen a train before, in 2016 in a city, that they were giddy at the sight of us rolling through. This took place dozens of times as we slowly went by. Police officers on duty stopped to smile and wave and take out their phones to video the train. It was incredible to see such a wide myriad of different types of people be completely enamored with a train. Everyone we passed was full of genuine wonder. It's something I won't forget.

Machachi Station

As we left the city, the landscape exploded into green pastures and rolling hills and volcanoes. The views reminded me of what I imagine Ireland to be. Endless rolling plains of different types of green. We were surrounded by lush forest, bountiful farmland, and dense mist rolling down the sides of the mountains towards us. We saw 7 different volcanoes along the way, hence the name of the route being, Ruta del Volcanes.

Traditional Performance in Machachi

After about two hours, we stopped at a small village where we loaded up on hot tea, snacks, and where local artisans sold some of their goods. The town had to have been smaller than 200 people in total population. I imagine the train stopping with 300+ people once or twice in a weekend provided them with some much needed economic stability with the tourists buying their goods. It was a really cool experience from my respective as the tourist to see these small towns as well.

We got back on the train and stopped again after a few more hours of breath taking views. Where we stopped, I was confronted again by some roaming aggressive llamas. I protected Shannon as I always do and we were back on the train after buying some hot chocolate.

Tiny Pony at the Farm

Our last stop was at a town called Machachi, where we were greeted a group of local teenagers performing a local dance they had rehearsed and prepared for us. After the dance, we went to eat lunch in a local hacienda farm. After the lunch, we roamed around eating freshly made fruit ice cream and checking out his animals.

Mutual Respect Among Natural Foes

We got back on the train and headed back into Quito, waving at more people along the way. It was an amazing day, an incredible way to see the countryside, and exactly what we were looking for when it comes to seeing some of Quito's local culture.

TTT

Never ending to-do list

This past Friday was a district-wide in-service day for the 9 international schools in Quito. The event, called Teachers Teaching Teachers, or TTT for short, happens in Quito every two years and is an opportunity for educators to share their expertise and to learn from and exchange ideas with other like-minded professionals.

This year, the theme was Student Engagement and the event was hosted by Colegio Menor down in the valley. Nine schools and 1,000 participants attended. Way back in November there was a call for proposals to present, and of course I submitted a proposal. I said I would be happy to share Robert Marzano’s research on student engagement, this being an area of great familiarity due to my time in our previous school district. My proposal was selected and I was asked to present my session twice. Now before you go getting impressed, I don’t think anyone that submitted a proposal was not selected. And while some only had to present once, there were several teachers asked to do it twice.

You may be surprised to hear that when it comes to projects such as these, I am a hopeless procrastinator. Have been that way since college. I could have been assigned a research paper or essay 3 months in advance. But for some reason I could just never force myself to put pen to paper until usually about 48 hours prior to the due date. And the quality of my work was never compromised. I still always got A’s on everything. This probably only served to reinforce my procrastination. I learned that I could do really good work on really short notice. Besides, I always found something charming about those 2 am visits to Kinko’s, eyes twitching from being awake for two days, heart racing from the unsafe levels of caffeine I’d consumed.

Seriously, the list didn't end

And sadly, even as a full grown, mostly responsible adult, it appears I still suffer from project procrastination. I mentioned my proposal was accepted back in November. So I was given over 4 months to pull a presentation together. It wasn’t until early February that I started at least writing “Start Marzano PD” on my weekly to-do list. And there it sat for weeks. It wasn’t until this past Monday, with the conference being held on Friday that I finally decided to get to work.

Now let me say, I’m quite comfortable with the information. I remember the research, I understand the philosophy, and I can speak confidently about this topic. But it’s when I start putting together a presentation, and designing slides, and inserting charts that I turn into a real crazy person.

I know a lot of people would say it’s not the design of your presentation that’s important, it’s the information that matters. And yeah, I get that. But I also disagree to an extent. Presentation is extremely important. To me, at least. I find it incredibly distracting when I see a presentation that’s sloppy, or I spot a typo, or an image is distorted, or (perish the thought!) clipart is used that still has a visible watermark! Eeek! To me, it’s extremely important for the information to be good AND to have it presented to me in a polished and professional manner.

So yes, I browse Google Slide themes for longer than I should. I make sure all my images and text boxes are perfectly centered. I check that the font and alignment is the same on every slide. I choose themes and colors and layouts that are going to be aesthetically pleasing and creative. And so I end up adding a lot of time onto my projects. And I go a little crazy.

It got bad last week because in addition to all of my Type A eccentricities, I also started to question my entire structure. Should I take this out? No, I need to add more information on this. I need more examples. Less videos. More videos. I NEED TO CHANGE EVERYTHING. OH MY GOSH, I SHOULD JUST START OVER. WHAT HAVE I DONE, THIS WAS A TERRIBLE MISTAKE. 

Such a long list

My school days were filled with back-to-back reading classes, and I meetings before and after school almost every day. Leaving me hardly any time to work on my presentation. Unless I were to bring it home, but then again one of my symptoms as a procrastinator is being unable to work from home.

So I was down to the wire, completely stressed, not sleeping because I was obsessing over my presentation and questioning every decision I had ever made.

I think there’s something really intimidating about presenting at conferences like this. It’s a well-known saying that teachers make the worst students. We tend to be jaded and sarcastic when people are trying to give us professional development. We think everything is easier said than done. We can be extremely critical. But we can also be incredibly kind and appreciative and encouraging. It’s a mixed bag of emotions, really.

And when you combine that with someone who is by nature a perfectionist, then it can be a pretty stressful scenario. Friday morning I was a complete mess. I was so stressed and worried that I wouldn’t do a good job. And, (likely due to my stress levels) I was beginning to get a head cold on top of it.

Justin did a really good job of trying to calm me down. He even came to my first session and sat in the back and kept giving me smiles and nods of reassurance. I was really grateful for that. He even wrote me a really sweet note that I read afterwards just encouraging and supporting me. It was super sweet and it really helped me to calm down for the second round.

Presentation Time

What’s funny is that I got extremely positive feedback from several participants. Especially comments on how “well-organized” “thorough” and “extremely clear” and “really easy to understand.” Ha! All of those tiny little details that I obsess over are exactly what people appreciate from me!

So I guess the fret and agony paid off. I definitely have not learned my lesson about procrastinating. And I can guarantee I will do this to myself again. But at least I know that it’s received well! And my behind-the-scenes existential crises and meticulous nit-picking all comes off to the casual observer as smooth, cool, and polished.

Island Hoppin'

It's over. It's finally over. Our long and arduous basketball season has come to an end, and I as the coach, get to finally take a break. I wrote a bit about coaching the JV team last year and I had a blast doing it. Last year I wrote about the interesting dynamic and balance kids have when it comes to sports. They view sports as an extracurricular activity rather than life. That is healthy. It was much of the same this year. We had a pretty solid year, going 9-5 with a group of young and inexperienced players. It was similar to previous years with one exception, tournaments. In international schools, the varsity teams are often sent to cool exotic locations for tournaments. This year, it was the beautiful Caribbean island country of Trinidad and Tobago. We would be going with our boys basketball team and our girls soccer team.

Great Basketball Season

 Now, the trip was awesome. Amazing even. However, while my trip was paid for by the school, (being coach has its perks) I was not able to bring my whole team. It was an expensive trip, and as a result I only brought 5 players to the tournament. In case you didn't know, the minimum for playing a basketball game is 5. If I had any injuries, or kids got tired, or someone fouled out...tough. It was a tough task to take on, but still...we were going to Trinidad.

Last week before we left, we gave the whole speech about behaving properly and partying and all of that stuff to the team. The morning we left, we met up at the school at 5:00am and boarded up. We were in the air by 7:00 headed for the islands. When we landed in Trinidad, I was taken aback a bit by the sweltering heat. I lived in Florida for 5 years before moving to Ecuador, and I was accustomed to the kind of heat that makes you baste in your own sweat as you slowly roast from the inside out. This was something different. The heat was intense and unwavering, but within minutes, a cool Caribbean breeze settled in on us and all was right with the world.

A bus picked us up and took us to the school for an opening ceremony. I have never in my life been to a country where they drive on the left side of the road and the steering wheel was on the right. It was quite an adjustment to me. Every corner we came around I was momentarily convinced that we were going to be in a head on collision and end up in more pieces than a jigsaw puzzle. It is very disorienting.

Representing Ecuador

We did a little opening ceremony where each team and each coach was introduced. This was also the point where I looked around and saw that our competition was stock piled with rosters of 11 or 12 each, some full of 6'5 grown men. I looked at my tiny collection of tiny boys and sighed. But then I was comforted by the fact that, yes I was in the Caribbean for free. Also, our kids have a healthy view on the balance of sports and life. All good. The ceremony also featured national anthems with kids singing at the top of their lungs, some even sporting their country's flag like scarves. That was pretty cool. It's not often kids get the opportunity to display such nationalism. Sure they since their national anthems in school and pledge their undying allegiances to people, places, and ideas, but how often do children get to REPRESENT their country? It was kind of like a mini-Olympics for them. The countries represented were Ecuador, Trinidad, Venezuela, Panama, and of course our hosts, Trinidad and Tobago.

Fab Five Fought Hard

After the ceremony, our kids were whisked away by the brave and helpful souls of parents from the school in Trinidad. They were eager to take our kids in, feed them, and provide transportation to and from the school. Hopefully the kids saw the kindness of their hospitality and behaved accordingly. Maybe they even picked up some culture along the way.

The games started the next morning and we were up in the second game. We played a school from Panama and lost a close game. It was clear to me that with more games left in the day, my kids were going to be exhausted. So is the game of basketball. Our second game featured the home team from Trinidad and they sported two giants. If I would have saw them on the street I would have assumed they were 28 year old body builders who worked nights as bouncers at a local club. We got smoked in that game. My kids didn't know what to do when one of the bouncers dunked. "But coach, he was so high he could have bit the rim..." Oh well.

That afternoon, the kids went out to a local mall and had a chance to hang out with the kids from the other schools. I took the opportunity to go to a local grocery store and buy some spicy sauces and curries native to the island. I also loaded up on the luxury goods we can't get in Ecuador that Shannon and I value so highly. This included buffalo sauce, M&Ms, malt vinegar, dill pickles, and the like.

That night after our hosts whisked away our responsibilities players, and we had a coach's social. This consisted of having a local beer or two and eating copious amounts of incredible and spicy food from Trinidad. We talked about what it was like to live in each country. We had opportunities to vent about the frustrations we had with our living situations, and also praise the incredible opportunities we were given. It was a really cool and unique experience.

Speedboat Chaperoning

The next day we had one more game against the Dominican Republic before heading out for our "cultural outing." We lost the game but were quickly consoled with some good food and put on a bus.

Cultural Day on a Private Island

After a 20 minute bus ride, we arrived at a local dock and all of the teams hopped on speedboats. Side note: In the United States, many families who have the means to, buy their children a car when they reach 15 or 16 as a milestone gift. In Trinidad, at least with these international school kids, they get a car and a speedboat. So the children of our host school took their speedboats and drove us through the Caribbean Sea to a private island residence. Fact: It's impossible to NOT smile on a speedboat going full speed. There, the kids had a party. There was a ton of food, drinks, a pool, a jacuzzi, a private beach, and well...we were spoiled for the day. I want to wait a second to let that soak in. We were taken by the kids, and their speedboats, to the residence of another kid, ON A PRIVATE ISLAND. The kids had a blast.

We Really Had it Rough

When it was time to return, we were all exhausted from the games, the sun, and swimming. Poor us. The kids got picked up by their hosts again and the coaches went out to dinner again to gorge on more spicy stuff, fish, and other local delicacies. The days were long (6am-11pm every day) but they were fun.

The last day we were there, we played hard and lost in the playoffs. Our kids were rewarded with some more delicious food, food trucks, a carnival at the school, and a party at the school that night. All in all they got to play sports they loved, meet kids from similar situations, see incredible sights and have fun.

Gearing Up for a Tough Game

Our trip back was somewhat eventful as it involved getting immigration and customs forms squared away for ourselves and our players. We also had to sprint across an airport in our team gear at the airport in Panama to catch a connecting flight. We made it. We had fun. We're home now. The season is over and we can rest.

Culturally speaking, in my experience the people from Trinidad were very warm and open. They speak English which was comforting to me after wading in the land of Spanish. (Although admittedly it took me a day or two to decode the thick Caribbean accents that lace their words) The food was spicy and featured a lot of vegetarian and seafood options. I had two personal favorite dishes in particular. The first was the double, which was basically a fried casing containing some sort of chickpea concoction and tons of sweet and spicy pepper sauce. The second was called bake and shark. It consisted of the same fried casing, kind of like a soft battered pita pocket, fried shark meat, cucumbers, spicy garlic sauce, and pineapple. WOW. It was out of this world. I was a little surprised at the sheer overwhelming number of people of Indian decent. I had never read up much on Trinidad but that was a surprise and a really interesting part of my experience on the island. The people, food, temperature, and everything else was fantastic.

Camping with the Kids

Late last night I got back from a camping trip with my students. Man, it was a doozy. I went on a similar trip last year to Cotopaxi National Park and while cold, it was a great experience. This one, wasn't so much.

Leading up to the trip, we were getting conflicting information from the company on a variety of fronts. Were we technically backpacking or just camping at a spot and hiking from there? What should we bring? What would the temperature be like? How many people fit in each tent. We were receiving a lot of information, some consistent, some not. So I did what I always do, try my best to prepare and be ready for any curveballs.

Prior to the trip, my colleagues and I worked out a shift schedule for our trip. I needed to be back by Wednesday to prepare my basketball team for an upcoming tournament and it was a more equal distribution of supervision coverage if we each took a few days. It was after-all 24 hrs of student supervision. It was decided that my teaching partner and I would go Monday-mid day Wednesday and then two other teachers would meet us at a specific campsite to cover Wednesday night-Friday when they would all return. It all matched up with the information that the company we hired set up as far as our itinerary and would work out perfectly.

The morning we left, we all met in the courtyard of the school to leave. When I told the guide about the supervision plan he looked at me as if I was crazy and said "Yeah, I don't know if that's the plan anymore. We might not get to that campsite until early Thursday morning." Well, things were off to a great start with some mis-information.

We rolled along anyway, unsure of our return time and got on the bus. After a two hour drive we got to a hacienda in the paramo cloud forest of a small town called Lloa and it started to rain. As a reminder, the cloud forest is an area that is high enough elevation wise to be amongst the clouds but also full of dense rain forest vegetation. It was around 10:30 when we were getting off the bus and I asked the guide, "So will we have tarps under the tents like last year to keep the kids as dry as we can?" He looked at me again as if I was the idiot and said, "No. We don't have tents. We have tarps. That is all." Then they set up our "tents" which consisted of a nylon cord and tarp. There was also a tarp floor.

Setting Up

Now this is fine. It's a nice way to go camping. I have done this before when I was a youngster in Boy Scouts. It is, however, NOT a good plan when you are camping in a rain forest. Here is why. There are two things rain forests are known for, tons of insects, and tons of rain. These things don't often go together well with the whole "no shelter" thing. The tents left about a foot of space as a gap on the two sides that actually include a wall-type structure, and no reprieve from these things otherwise.

Being the teacher and the chaperone on this trip, I was determined to put on a happy face and pretend it was all good for the kids. I didn't want my negative opinion of our accommodations to be transferred to the kids.

The rest of the day, about 9 hours of it or so, was spent doing absolutely nothing. The kids took refuge under two roofs scattered around the hacienda and we sat there doing nothing at all except for swatting the not so occasional mosquito.

Sweet Sweet Jimmy

That night, we all retired to our quarters (a big piece of trash bag) and sat under the rain, squashing bugs at every turn. I woke up at about 2am with a puddle in my sleeping bag. It was too cold outside to not be in the sleeping bad, but wet inside. Quite the dilemma. I ended up going with an angry sleepless stewing inside of my sleeping bag broth and woke up the next day still soaking wet and sleepless, full of vigor, enthusiasm, exhaustion, fury, optimism for a better day.
The day started off well enough. We went hiking for a few hours and along the way we were joined by a stray yellow lab who, while female, the kids named Jimmy, because middle school kids are weird sometimes. Jimmy came along as we enjoyed the beautiful vistas of the rain forest. We eventually came across a river that was simply too rocky, fast, and deep to pass. Luckily for us, there was a pulley system set up with a wooden plank to serve as a chair. We made our way across, one kid at a time, until 2 and a half hours later, we were all across where we had a delightful lunch. As the last person (me) passed, Jimmy swam across to the delight of the kids.

Rope Pulley

After we started hiking again, the deluge of the day started. At least we had three hours of sunlight. Little did we know that the sunlight we had would be the last for our trip. We hiked along in the rain through the various depths of mud along the way. It all looked uniform in color and appearance. One step would be an inch or two, and the next would be thigh high. Needless to say, everyone's everything was soaked. Sleeping bags, clothes, and "tents" were all wet. We eventually realized that the rain wasn't going to let up and the guides veered off of the path in the middle of no-where into a field of waist high grass. The kids stood and shivered collectively in the rain with faces of despair and exhaustion as the guides set up our nylon cords. They laid down some of the tarps and we all climbed into our respective areas.

Home Sweet Home

Remember, that we're in the rain forest. Also please remember that we're in waist high grass. These are both known to be favorite locations for mosquitoes. Little did we know we all knew we were choosing to walk right into the door of a mosquito love dungeon breeding ground swinger's party. The night was spent with rain slamming upon our tents, (collapsing the boys' tent at one point) and mosquitoes feasted upon our faces and bodies as if we were seasoned and placed upon spits for them. Kids and teachers alike went to the bathroom in the tall grass, acquiring nice big ole bites on our nether regions along the way. (At least I can speak for myself) Jimmy the dog, curled up on the grass next to our camp and spent the night with us. After another long night of no refuge, we all woke up soaking wet again, but with newly acquired face and body welts. One boy had a bite of some kind that was red and swollen, about the size of a fist, right in the middle of his chest.

Farmer Wasn't Happy

We were eager to get moving and get out of the love dungeon so we began packing up. While we were folding tarps, a man in a hard hat with a machete came out and confronted our guide, upset that we were camping on his farm land. Through the deluge, we didn't see that there was a small farm house about 100 yards in the distance. To be fair to him, I wouldn't want 50 middle school kids anywhere near my home laying in the grass. As he gave our guide the business, we quickly did what we could to get out of there and eventually set off to hike again.

While on the road, we came across a river that was clearly higher than normal, judging by the faces of our guides. They strung together the nylon rope and we all walked across with our backpacks, that for many of us had tripled in weight due to an absence of dry stuff and water weighing down everything. So, we went white water walking with our packs, which took another two hours. We nearly lost one kid when he slipped and fell and his backpack nearly took him under. Luckily for him, he held on to our "tent" and was able to get to his feet again. Once safely across, we waved goodbye to Jimmy who was trying terribly to come with us across the river. It was simply too dangerous for her and our kids waved goodbye as they caught one last blurry glimpse of her walking away through their tears.

White Water Walking

We continued for another two hours until we came upon a slick rock wall. The guides used our tents again to string up a pulley and rope system that we used to climb up to the top of the rock wall. It was pretty cool, but rather difficult with 90+ lb. backpacks. This process included putting people in harnesses and slowly, one by one, hauling them up the rock face. This took about four and a half hours to complete. When we were done, due to the continued rain and cold, many kids were losing feeling in their fingers and shaking uncontrollably.

We got back to hiking and the rain wouldn't quit. The mud got thicker and thicker. The rising mud levels transformed our hike to a crawl. The mud was this dark, murky, daunting terrain. It was the kind of mud that you looked into and saw the reflection of your own life's regrets. We hiked through the night, with one kid falling and putting a nice sized gash in his knee. We came across a tarantula the size of my hand on the path that freaked the kids out.

We hiked deep into the night (3 hours of darkness or so). The guides were getting increasingly agitated as they looked for a suitable place to set up our tents but quickly realized that the unrelenting rain had caused the entire terrain to turn into a swamp. My own headlamp filled with water and then stopped working. We were screwed. We were cold. We had no where to camp and no other choice. We kept trudging on. The crash of thunder and howling of the wind drowned out the crying of the kids. Honestly, there was nothing I could do for them anyway to ease their concern or suffering.

One of the guides hollered for us to stop and we did. We stood their, with our heavy packs, weary legs, and wet everything and waited. And waited. And waited. The guide eventually came back to tell us that he found a farm house nearby and the farmer had agreed to let us stay in his basement. The house was build on stilts and his basement consisted of a large area about the size of a half of a tennis court. It was nothing more than wooden planks, but it was dry, and it was ours. We all thanked the man, Farmer Juan, on our way in and as we passed his eyes got wider and wider at the sad sorry sight of 40+ soaked, swollen, and half digested faces. I feel that he immediately regretted his decision, but we were grateful nonetheless. After a dinner of crappy powdered soup and a whispered rendition of "Happy Birthday" for one of our students, we all collapsed on the floor into our wet sleeping bags. I was fortunate enough to be smack dab in the middle of two dozen pungent middle school boys. Thank you Farmer Juan and I'm sorry for what those kids did to your non-working bathroom. You have my condolences.

The next day, we started out early. We all woke up to new bite marks,  swollen body parts, and blood streaks that served as proof of mid-sleep mosquito assassinations. My teaching partner's left eye was swollen shut from a particularly poorly placed bite. We got our packs back on and went into the still raging rain storm. The guides swore that our walk would be no more than two hours, even with our heavy packs and weary children. We set off and after four hours more, we were still walking. Walking with wet feet is one of the worst feelings in the world. When you've been doing it for three days, no matter what kind of boots you are wearing, you will have blisters and dead skin. It was tough.

We finally got to the bridge that would signify we had one hour left and it was washed out. It had begun falling apart during the storm. The guides rigged up a harness system for the kids and they precariously crossed the bridge even though it sort of resembled the twisted helix of a DNA strand. I waited as they shuttled the kids across and saw four or five toucans flying around in the canopies of the trees.

As I stepped up on the bridge, and opted for no harness to save some time, the guide warned me to step in the middle of the twisting boards because they weren't nailed in. I slowly shimmied by way across and when on the other side, found a truck ready to relieve us of our packs for the last bit of the hike. I gladly accepted the offer and continued to walk with a group of kids and adults to the final location. The relief party had arrived, only 30 hours or so later than we originally agreed upon. The two teachers would be there for the last night of the trip for the kids. Not a lot of pictures from here on out because it wasn't safe to take out the camera.

As we were walking we came across a rive that was about thigh deep. The truck came rumbling behind us, full of our backpacks. One of the adults with me explained that on the way, the river was about two feet deep and they drove through it with no problem. The rain had caused the river to rise, but the guide who owned the truck had no choice but to power through the river. Miraculously he made it across, but as he rolled over the last rock, my teaching partner's bag went flying into the river. A quick thinking friend of mine ran after it, slid on a rock and grabbed it mere inches before it went flying. I'll say that again, he ran into a white water river, slipped on a rock, and saved the bag somehow.

After an hour or so, we arrived at the bus that was to take the kids for one more night of tarp camping in town. We were able to convince the principal of the school to arrange for them to actually have a roof and hot water before they staged a mutiny, and we went on our way. All in all, nothing was dry including my wallet, a book I foolishly brought with me, or any clothes. It was a really tough trip but the kids impressed me immensely with their fortitude and toughness. It was a hell of a journey, but we all came out on the other side, swollen and water-logged, but better for it. Next time I go camping, I'm going to require a tent.