Lago Conquistadora

Lago San Pablo

So about two weeks ago I completed a personal challenge, the likes of which I’ve never attempted in my life: an open-water swimming competition. There is a famous lake in Otavalo named Lago San Pablo. It sits at the foot of the massive volcano Imbabura. The lake is over 3500 meters in length, 83 meters deep at its deepest, and a constant temperature of 17.5⁰ C (or 63.5⁰ F). And every year, for the past 53 years there is a race to swim across the lake, or “travesía el lago”. I learned about this competition last year through my swim coach partner. She has done the race several times herself, although not for many years. We talked about doing it together last year but it never went any further than that.

At the Registration Booth

Flash forward to four weeks ago. I ran into my colleague in the courtyard and she casually mentions that the race is in two weeks. One thing leads to another and we decide, just two weeks from the date and having done no kind of training to prepare for the 2.18 mile swim, that we’re going to go for it.

Now let me say that being born and raised in Florida, where alligators, venomous snakes, and snapping turtles lurk in every body of water, swimming in a lake goes against every self-preservation instinct I possess. If something doesn’t maim or eat you whole, there’s always the brain-devouring amoebas to worry about. And can I tell you how many senior citizens plow through guardrails and drive their Buicks into retention ponds and drainage ditches every year, only to be found months later? No sir, you don’t swim in lakes in Florida because danger is lurking in the tepid waters. So you can understand what a huge deal it was, unnatural even, for me to voluntarily attempt to swim across a lake.

Ready to Conquer the Water

So there’s the fear factor involved. Now let me elaborate on the logistics of the swim. The distance from start to finish is 3515 meters. That’s over 2 miles. And in swimming distances, that is FAR. I actually don’t think I’ve ever swam that far at one time in my life. Next there is the cold to contend with, a chilly 63⁰ is sure to give you chills and begins to lower your core body temperature after a given time. And finally, there is the “course” or lack thereof. Unlike swimming in a pool with neat little floating lane dividers to mark your path, there is no kind of trail marked in the lake. It is just a wide open body of water that literally stretches beyond your field of vision and your only navigation guide is to hope to keep an eye on the other 200 little swim caps bobbing up and down in the water.

I will now recount for you my experience, my triumph, my defeat, and the spiritual lesson I learned.

September 12, 2015 6:00 am

No Turning Back

Justin and I wake up. We have spent the night in Cabanas del Lago, a beautiful hostería on the banks of Lago San Pablo. I eat a banana and slurp down a juice box before suiting up and meeting my swimming partner in the parking lot. We drive to the starting end of the lake where Justin (God bless him) dutifully begins rubbing me down with Vaseline – into my knees and elbows, my ankles, toes, ears, and shoulders. I am told this is supposed to help insulate you from the cold water, and ease the joint pain caused by the cold water. Whether or not it worked, I can’t say for sure. But I did look fierce and shiny. My partner and I do some light jogging and stretching. Fog is rolling off the surface of the water. Spectators are dressed in pants, hooded sweatshirts, hats and scarves. I am wearing a bathing suit, a swim cap, and a light sheen of petroleum jelly.

8:00 am

We have been marked on our arms and backs with our racing numbers in thick black Sharpie. They line us up into a corral on the bank of the lake. Men on the left, women on the right. There are about 200 swimmers, 40 of them women and the rest are men. The elite swimmers have been given first start and they leap into the water as the whistle blows. The rest of us walk, run, and stomp our way into the water and then it is 8 minutes of sheer chaos as swimmers vie for a good spot in the water. Arms and legs flail, water splashes, you get kicked and elbowed and nudged. The moment I am fully submerged, I feel my heart rate rocket and my breath is coming in short, shallow gasps. I am experiencing cold shock, which is when you start involuntarily gasping for air. This is problematic when you are submerged in water, as you risk sucking in a chest full of icy water if you’re not careful. I had planned to start swimming fast to get my body warmed up, but this is impossible. My face does not want to stay in the water, and I keep popping up into a breast stroke where my head is out of water and I can breathe. I realize I am experiencing a fight-or-flight reaction and my body desperately wants to take flight. My partner keeps telling me to swim faster that I have to get past the initial shock and I tell her, “I am panicking.” My brain is telling me that this is impossible, and my body won’t do what I’m telling it to do. I look around for the nearest rescue boat (there are 8 boats for the 200 swimmers) and wonder how long it would take for them to get to me. All I can hear is the sound of my own desperate gasping and my brain telling me to give up. My friend is encouraging me. “Start swimming. Just start swimming” she tells me. Finally, I am able to put my face in and start to swim.

8:15 am

My goggles fogged up the moment I hit the water and I am virtually swimming blind. My friend is on my right and I use her for a guide every time I take a breath. I am finally able to slow my breathing a bit and have gotten into a rhythm. I am aware of how cold my body is and I feel shivers in my chest. My breathing still sounds strained when I come up for air but I am slightly calmer. The water is a dark and murky forest green and there is no visibility a foot beyond my face. Every few seconds, a glint of sunlight hits my goggles and throws a reflection of light into the water below me. Every time this makes me jump with the fear that it’s a ferocious water creature rising from the depths to pull me below. As I’m swimming alongside my friend I am reminded of a story my mom read me when I was a kid. It’s set in rural Australia and its about three neighborhood friends that dare each other to swim across a lake. The first two boys make it across and are teasing the last boy for being afraid to swim. Finally, unable to take their taunting anymore the third boy starts swimming across the lake…and is promptly eaten up by an enormous crocodile.  I’m sure the moral of the story had something to do with peer pressure. But right now its making me imagine my untimely demise. “Don’t think about that story” I tell myself. “It’s too cold for alligators in this water. It’s too cold for alligators” becomes my mantra.

8:40 am

I’ve got a rhythm going. I’m feeling okay. I have quieted the panic in my brain and I’m feeling strong. I’ve found a way to stop my heart from involuntarily leaping every time I look down into the opaque water, and that is simply to keep my eyes closed. So now, I only open my eyes when I’m taking a breath of air, and I snap my eyes shut each time I plunge my face back in. This is working for me. My friend is starting to swim faster and I’m having trouble keeping up. The finish line is nowhere in sight. The throng of swimmers has dispersed over the expanse of the lake. As my friend pulls farther and farther ahead, I realize that without her next to me as a guide, I am virtually swimming blind. And it is alarmingly easy to get disoriented after a few strokes with your eyes closed. I keep stopping every few strokes to pop my head out and get a sense of direction but this is an incredibly inefficient way to swim. My friend is far ahead of me now. I can barely make out the white round ball of her swim cap before she is totally gone from sight.

8:45

I am alone. I am all alone is the big scary lake and no one is going to notice if my head disappears under the surface. I haven’t even seen a boat in the last 20 minutes. Can they see me? Is there a GPS tracker on this pace chip? If I start to drown how long will it take for the boats to get to me? Can I even tread water that long? I am really, really cold. My toes are going numb. And my shoulders are throbbing. I’ve totally lost my rhythm. I’m barely even swimming.

Once again, I feel the panic set in. I realize my friend has abandoned me and I’m going to have to finish this alone. I stop swimming and pull my goggles off to get a clear look around. “Where is the finish line? Is it to my left? My right?” “Oh shit” I hear myself say out loud, but it comes out as a shaky, high-pitched whine. My head turns left and right looking for a clue of the finish. My lips are trembling and I feel like I’m very close to crying out of fear, like when I used to have panic attacks. The difference being that those panic attacks were usually irrational and unprovoked whereas this was a very rational fear of possibly drowning. I know I am going to have to calm myself down if I am going to get through this. “It is only in your head” I tell myself. “Your body is okay. Your body will do what your mind tells it to do. Get your mind under control. Calm down, Shannon. You can do this. You just need to calm down.” With a newfound (albeit small) resolve, I start heading in the only direction I can think of, which is forward. I have succeeded in stilling my thoughts. I begin to get into a meditative state. I’m back into a rhythm and I’m breathing every few strokes now. I force myself to appreciate the beautiful mountain scenery that appears on my left and my right every time I take a breath. I am still aware of a cold feeling but it is nowhere near as desperate as before. I start appreciating rather than fearing my surroundings. “Think of how lucky you are” I muse. “You are swimming in a beautiful lake. You are surrounded by mountains and volcanoes. By green and brown. Feel the sun shining on your back, warming you. It is calm. It is quiet. You are communing with Nature. This is actually a very magical experience. Consider this a baptism of sorts.” My meditation works and I actually feel myself smile. I am going to make it. Justin is waiting for me on the other side and I’m going to get there.

9:30

Waiting at the Finish Line

I have spotted some yellow flags on the bank and I decide this must be the finish line. It still seems really far way, but I am in a good mental state and I’m not discouraged. My arms, shoulders and neck muscles are aching but I know I’m going to make it. I’m just so elated that I can actually see the finish line! The wind has started to pick up and it’s creating waves. This adds to the difficulty of swimming in a straight line and every once in a while I come up for a breath and get a mouth full of water instead. A couple times I choke on the water. But when this happens I stop, cough it out, take a deep breath, and continue swimming. I’ve been swimming for what seems like a long time but the flags don’t seem to be getting any closer. I keep telling myself I can do this. Mind over matter. Keep moving. Don’t stop. You’re going to make it.

9:40

My concentration is broken when suddenly I hear whistles blowing. I look up and see a boat circling me. A man throws me a life vest attached to a rope. I shake my head “no” I motion towards the finish line. “I want to finish. Let me keep going” I’m thinking this but I don’t know if the words actually came out of my mouth. The man in the boat shakes his head at me. “Everybody out” he says in English. I look at the yellow flags. I look back at the boat. I am no more than 300 meters out. I could weep from frustration. I am so close. I realize that it’s over and sadly grab the vest. Once I stop swimming my muscles begin to cramp almost immediately. When two men try to haul me overboard, I am dead weight, having lost all control of my body. They are forced to solicit the help of a third man to haul my stiff, shivering body on board. It is not a proud moment as three grown Ecuadorian men struggle to get leverage on my body weight. The moment I’m in the boat my right calf seizes in a cramp and I’m howling. A female medic on board vigorously massages my leg until the muscle releases. I am devastated I didn’t finish. I feel defeated. I feel robbed. I feel like I’ve failed. I am now soaking wet and being whipped by the wind as the boat speeds to shore. My body is going into shock again and starts shaking and heaving from the cold. “Por que?” I utter. I can barely get the words out. “La carrera ha terminado” The race is finished she tells me. I gesture to the finish line. I am having a hard time speaking I am so cold and exhausted. I think she understands what I’m trying to ask. “Porque el tiempo” Because of the time she tells me. “Cuanto tiempo?” I ask through chattering teeth. Her answer stuns me. “Una hora y media” she tells me, smiling. I have been swimming for an hour and half? I am bewildered by this. There are about 10 other swimmers on the boat, all drooped and shivering, having also been pulled from the race.

9:50

The boat pulls up to the dock and I am shaking so hard I look like I’m having a seizure. I am unsteady on my feet and as I leave the boat for the dock I am greeted by a medic with a large blanket. He wraps the blanket around my shoulders. Another person starts unfastening the chip bracelet from my wrist. Someone else shoves a paper cup of scalding sweet liquid into my hand. My hands are shaking so hard I spill the hot drink all over my chest and face as I attempt to take a sip. I walk into the cabin and two medics are speaking to me but I do not understand what they are saying and I cannot speak. Involuntary grunts and squeaks are coming out of my mouth. A medic takes a hot water bottle and wraps it up in my blanket. They sit me down in a chair and someone pulls off my swim cap and wraps a dry blanket around my head. I have no idea what’s happening I’m only aware of my body convulsing. It occurs to me later that this may have been the early stages of hypothermia.

9:55

Time to Recover

As I’m being ministered to by medics who I cannot understand, I suddenly look up and see Justin. He has shouldered a medic out of the way and is hugging me and rubbing my back. He is saying something to me. The medic is asking a question. I am comprehending none of this. “Fire” I finally hear Justin say. “He wants to know if you want to go sit by the fire. There’s a big bonfire outside.” I manage a nod and Justin ushers me outside to a smoldering fire. Justin struggles to get sweatpants and socks on my useless legs. He pulls a sweatshirt on me and puts a knit cap on my head and scoots my chair to the edge of the fire.

10:15

By now I am starting to feel warm and the shaking has finally stopped. I am able to speak again. I tell Justin how sad I am that they made me get out when I was so close to finishing. He tells me he saw more than two dozen grown men brought back in boats, having given up and quit the race. He tells me how proud he is of me, and also how worried he was when the race was over and I still hadn’t returned. “You didn’t quit” he keeps reminding me. He’s right. I would have finished had they let me.

10:30

Finally Time to Rest

We head back to the hostería where I take a blissfully hot shower. I’m interested to find that the front of my swim suit was holding a layer of mud and lake algae against my skin. I stand in the shower until I can feel the hot water starting to run out. Then I dry off, get dressed and we head to the restaurant for a celebratory meal. The restaurant overlooks the lake I just crossed. And as we eat we both marvel at what a distance it is. “I can’t believe I just swam across that thing” I say to Justin. He agrees, it’s pretty impressive. The rest of the afternoon and that evening are all sweatpants, hot tea and ibuprofen. And even though I didn’t technically finish the race, I came pretty damn close. I allow myself to feel a little pride and satisfaction for giving it my best effort, for overcoming the moments of intense fear, and most importantly for not giving up.

So what did I learn from this day? What did I take away from the lake? I learned that fear can cripple you, if you let it. I learned that there is a lot to be gained from challenging yourself. I learned that the strength of the body is nothing compared to the strength of the mind. I learned that 3500 meters in open in water is much farther than I could have imagined. I learned a new use for Vaseline. And finally, I learned that even when you’re all alone in the middle of the lake you can still find your way, if you just put your head down and keep swimming forward. 

Ecuador's Wide World of Animals

We've seen some pretty cool stuff while we have been here. We've traveled to the Amazon and seen monkeys and caimans. We've been to the coast and seen weird fish and sea lions and boobies. We've even seen unique animals in the mountains where we live (I'm looking at you Llama who I fought). However this week I saw something I've never even heard of before...a tarantula wasp.

I was looking for a student during our lunch hour to talk to him and came across a colleague who had lunch supervision duty. We got to chatting and out of the corner of our eyes we saw a blackish mass about the size of a cell phone moving. We went up to look at it and to our horror we saw animal murder taking place.

My friend Nick said, "Oh I read a cool article about these. They are giant wasps that are natural enemies of tarantulas. They sting them to paralyze them, drag them to their wasp dungeon, and lay eggs on them so their baby can eat the paralyzed tarantula alive."

I'll wait. I understand you may need a moment to process that sentence.

....

Ok, ready?

That is the most disturbing thing I think I have heard of but I witnessed it first hand. Also, of course we called over all of the middle school boys and girls to gawk at it. This was before we knew that it had the second most painful venom sting of any animal in the world. Oh well it all worked out alright.

Check out the article Nick was referring to: Article

Checking In

Well, it’s been a while. We haven’t made any posts for a variety of reasons. The first is that a lot of the things we usually blog about are related to the transition to living and working in Quito and many of our “firsts” were already posted. This year we have an apartment, a car, a working knowledge of the city, and as a result quite a few of our amusing struggles are kind of not happening right now. That is not something I’m complaining about but it does explain some of the delay in posting.

Anyway, we’re back to school and things are going well. Both Shannon and I have some new responsibilities professionally and while we’re busy at work we are beginning to hit our stride. We have resumed our Spanish lessons and that is going well also. For the first time in my teaching career I have the opportunity to teach students who I had the year before as well. It’s great to start the year with a relationship and working knowledge of the students as well.

As far as a volcano update, we are constantly checking the news and hearing things from other people. We were told that it’s now not an IF question but a WHEN question. We have loaded up on water, canned food, tape (for sealing the windows), and ash masks. We are as prepared as possible. Rumors are circulating about when things are going to go down but to the best of my knowledge no one really knows. It’s kind of odd to compare how people are preparing for the volcano with other experiences I’ve had with natural disasters. Pretty much my only experiences constitute a few hurricanes and blizzards. Those at least give you a warning of when to expect the worst. This volcano thing just has everyone on the edge of their seats holding their breath.

We did get to see it for ourselves while on our way back from Otavalo last weekend (more on that later) and it was crazy to see.

Anyway, we are in a groove of school and awaiting a volcanic explosion. We hope it’s not too serious but all we can do in the meantime is hope. We are still doing some planning for the wedding little by little and have a few weekend trips planned for the coming months. To any family and friends reading this, we miss you all and look forward to seeing you all soon.

Summer Recap and Looking Ahead

I had a lovely summer vacation. I visited six different cities, spent some great quality time with my sisters, attended two professional development workshops, found a wedding dress, visited with friends and family, ate a lot of ice cream, and drank more than my fair share of wine. When it came time to return to Ecuador, we crammed our suitcases full with all the delicacies and various baubles we could gather. You would think we were preparing for a space mission to Mars, or were headed deep into the heart of the Congo the way we frantically grabbed razors, M&Ms, wing sauce, brooms, books, and cosmetics from the drugstore shelves to bring back with us. Surely, much of these items are available (in some version or other) where we live, but the quality is low and the price is about a 100% markup. So, we seized the opportunity to take everything we can.

I did feel relieved to be home in Quito, finally done with traveling and visiting, and done with the endless suitcase shuffle. And I’m aware of a pervading calm and happiness I feel towards starting this new year. I don’t think I ever realized until now, that last year was actually pretty stressful on me. It’s only now, in the absence of anxiety and ignorance that I realize how much easier this year will be by comparison. We have a fully operational and even cozy apartment, we know how to buy food and get around town, I have a clearly defined role at work, and I can even speak a little Spanish.

I am excited to have some more responsibilities at work this year. In addition to being the reading interventionist for Grades 3 through 5, I will also be responsible for analyzing MAP reading and language data and teaching teachers how to best use this data to guide their instruction. This makes my inner geek happy. And an even bigger and more exciting role I’m taking on is that of accreditation coordinator, where I will get to play an integral role in completing our school’s self-study – this first step towards continuing accreditation. And of course, I’ll be coaching the swim team again. Truly some new experiences and challenges for me and I couldn’t be more ready to take them on.

Welcome Back BOOM!

Well, we’re back from our summer vacation and ready to start year 2 out of our 2 year contract. Shannon and I had an incredible trip and while it wasn’t exactly restful, we were able to see many of our family and friends. It was excellent but I will let the story of the summer be Shannon’s to write. I’ll pick up with the journey home.

The journey home starts with the ever difficult process of getting Howie to travel with us. I didn’t want to go through the hassle of leaving him in Florida for two months again and then the expense of going back to get him. It was too much money, time, and hassle on me and Shannon’s family. So Shannon and I resolved to bring him back with us and fly in August. If you remember anything about the post from earlier in the year that meant we needed to have weather under 85 degrees (in August in Florida) and take care of the paperwork.

The school booked our trips for the summer for us so we kind of just had to deal with what they signed us up for. We ended up having a 4pm return flight out of Miami. After realizing that the weather would be impossible to counter that time of year and day in Miami, I arranged to switch our flights to a midnight departure redeye hoping the weather would cooperate. The change only cost us about $300.

Well the day came and after getting all of Howie’s paperwork taken care of and saying our goodbyes, we piled into the minivan we rented that would fit the luggage and Howie and made our way down to Miami. I have personally sworn to myself never to own a minivan but this thing was less minivan and more road yacht. This behemoth contained glorious leather captain’s chairs, 431 cup holders, tvs, velvet roped off VIP areas, and bottle service. (Don’t worry it was water, we were driving after all)

We hit the road and we were promptly smacked in the face with thunderstorms and gale force winds that blew sawgrass into our road yacht’s windshield throughout our four hour drive from Orlando to Miami that were meant to remind us via living postcard what Florida had to offer. When we finally got to the airport we managed struggled flailed around with our Howie and his crate and 6 suit cases full of new clothing and exclusively U.S. sauces, M&Ms, and Shannon’s beauty products. I imagine the scene we were portraying is exactly what you’d see if you were a 19^th century prairie dweller and we were making our way up the Oregon Trail, but without the covered wagon to keep us organized. 

When we got to the actual airport, we were told that our check in gate was on the far end of the airport and we would have to walk our prairie equipment approximately 14 miles until we got there. At one point, the luggage that was precariously perched on Howie’s crate caused his crate to slide off of the luggage cart and send him and his crate slowly tipping over. I dove to catch him from what would have probably been a near fatal 9 inch fall to the ground and balanced the crate, luggage, and my temper as if I were the blind Lady of Justice, Themis, balancing her scales of righteousness.  

When we got him to the gate and checked in, we walked him over to the TSA check in and 80% of the airline staff came over to pet him, fawn over him, and coo over his existence. I imagine this made the 20+ people still waiting in line behind us a little frustrated but whatever.

After the check-in we had a relatively uneventful flight with the only inconvenience being the sharp kneecap of a 6 year old girl stabbing into my lower back as if performing some sort of rudimentary Andean acupuncture.

When we landed we took a few cabs home and slept through the rest of the morning only to wake up to hear that the volcano Cotopaxi had erupted that morning. So we landed and about an hour later a volcano explodes to welcome us home. Well to be more accurate, it was a plume of ash that shot 2 miles in the air. No lava at the time. It’s still in a precarious state but here we are three days later with not too much happening since. (Furiously knocking on wood) However, even though it hasn't been too bad so far the country is in a state of emergency as a result of the eruption and there are concerns about the volcano's snow capped mountains melting due to magma flow and causing mud slides. Let's hope for the best for everyone in Ecuador and the towns directly surrounding the volcano. 

The next day we got in our car to load up on groceries to see that our battery had died in our car as a result of no driving it for 2+ months. We called around and eventually found some jumper cables. After talking to a few people, this exact thing happened to 5 people while they were gone.

I feel bad for the new teachers. They usually arrive a week before the rest of the staff for orientation and during their orientation week they had school canceled one day due to protests in the city, and canceled another day due to the volcano, and canceled a third day in anticipation of the Quitonian Zombie Apocalypse. Only one of those things is fake. Imagine that being your first week in a new country!

We go back to work tomorrow and in the meantime we’re settling in and meeting up with some of our friends. While living in another country poses omnipresent difficulties, we are anticipating and hoping to have a smoother transition this year. We won’t have to find our way around town via taxi, buy a car, find an apartment, dry our hair by space heater, do laundry in the sink, or boil water for hot showers. We’ve figured out a lot of that stuff and we’re at a point where we can simply live a somewhat normal life aboard. Here’s to another good year in Quito and hopefully another year worth of good times to experience and stories to write. 

Adios Primer Ano

Who woulda' thought
while in Iowa

We are close to wrapping up the end of the year at school (10 school days left but who's counting) and we have our flights back to the states booked and ready. As we are approaching that time, it seemed like an appropriate time for reflection. I don’t want to go into a summary of our experiences and adventures because we have detailed all of those on this blog as they were happening, (volcano hiking and camping, llama fights, pink bedrooms, Amazon treks, Galapagos swims and trips to the beach) I would rather go into the mindset part of things for a moment. I have pictures from all the fun stuff but if this blog is about capturing the most accurate representation of our time here then I have to write these experiences down before they’re out of my memory for good.

Ughh. the pink room.

This whole thing was about experiencing new things. We wanted to experience new culture and we did. Sometimes that’s pretty and idealistic as you talk to a local about the differences between your food and theirs. Other times it’s a messy string of unrelated moments where you can’t explain to a taxi driver where you live or where you can’t eat dinner because no matter how hard you try you simply can’t tell a person what you want. We’ve been boxed into the cereal aisle of a grocery store by people too inconsiderate to notice the presence of other beings.

House hunting seemed
so long ago

This year has seen us drop our jaws in awe at the majestic views of the Andes Mountains, glistening white sand of the South American Coastline, and fear while standing on the cap of a volcano. We have met incredible people. We have experienced food that takes your breath away. We have made lifelong friends and seen them grow from party people to parents. We’ve seen people break down and find strangers willing to lend a shoulder. We’ve learned so much about this country, this lifestyle (the good and the bad), and redefined our previous conceptions of life outside of the US. It wasn't easy to get here. We had to argue with the Visa offices, send countless mail on behalf of Howie, pack up our lives to ship them, and say some very tough goodbyes to great friends and family.

I'll take all the victories I can
get, little or big

When we got here we had some struggles. We didn’t have a home at first and two days to find one with the help of the school which was a cascading avalanche of pressure. Once we found one, we were without hot water and our possessions for about a month and a half. We were cold, frustrated, and hopeful. We have had our hard moments where we’ve had friends robbed at gun and knife point and car dealerships that made me want to bring the weapon into the picture. Putting the pieces in place for us to live the kind of life we expect and need has been arduous and long. I mean, we’ve been here since August 13 and we are just this weekend having a washer and dryer installed and we just got an oven last week! I’m sure there’s a ton of work to be done in the future but in the meantime I’ll take my little victories and enjoy them.

If this post is a bit scattered between the good and the bad…then good. That’s what life was like here. That’s what our lives have been for the past 9 months. But the fact of the matter is, through the difficulties and through the frustrations a fog lifted and we began to navigate our way around a strange new place. We carved a life out of the thicket of tangled confusion. That’s one of the most valuable lessons I can take from this first year. We had many tough times. We had many experiences that we couldn’t have had anywhere else in the world. We learned a lot about our students, international teaching, a new country, a new language, and most importantly ourselves. We realized that while this transition was huge, it is something that we can handle and we had a blast along the way. I look forward to our trip to the states. I look forward to real BBQ sauce, M&Ms, music I understand, and the guarantee that I will not see a pig’s head or a flame thrower on the side of the road. But at the same time, I can’t wait until we come back next year and do it all again without the transition and culture shock. It’ll be time to sink our teeth into Ecuador. We’ll be busy planning a wedding and all of that but we won’t have to go through the house hunt, car search, language barrier, laundry hikes and cold water nights. I will always look back on this first year fondly with memories of struggle and triumph that I appreciate equally. 

It hasn't all been hard but I'm looking
forward to coming back.

End of Year Reflection

As I sit here at our dining room table on the morning of departure, I am feeling triumphant. We have made it through our first year abroad and we’ve done it gracefully if I may say so. I remember that when Justin and I first accepted the offer to come teach in Ecuador, we were only just months into a romantic relationship. Justin had never travelled beyond the territorial United States, and neither of us had any idea what to expect. That’s a pretty big burden on a new couple if you think about it. And when you think about the stress and anxiety and culture shock that would come along with a move like this, you would expect there to be some strain on the relationship. And yet, I’m proud to say we hung tough together. And all of the hardships and adjustments we had to make we went through together and are all the more strong for it. I remember breaking into sobs one night the first month here, yet another cold water shower that just finally broke my spirit and sent me into weeping mixed with teeth chattering, complaining that I could feel the cold in my knees and my knuckles. And Justin grabbed every blanket we had and wrapped me up tight like a burrito and actually laid on top of me to try to warm me up with his body heat. Like we were on goddarn Survivorman. And that actually pretty sums up how we handled the rest of the challenges we faced this year. We just bundled up, huddled together and got through it.

And apart from our personal triumphs, we jumped professional hurdles as well. Justin became a Language Arts teacher for the first time ever – and killed it! I navigated my way through the world of sticky little people – otherwise known as Early Childhood. And while I can now say more confidently than ever that I am definitely a Secondary Education person, I am thankful for all I learned in just this one year about child development and literacy and just the really weird, funny things that little kids do all the time. I learned about self-stimulation and sensory needs. (Insert raised eyebrow here). And I learned that for some mystifying reason, even though I don’t have the feathery adoring voice of an elementary teacher and I don’t pretend like everything they say is profoundly interesting, little kids love me, man. And I know I’ll always be welcome in that world.

And now we’re going home for the summer. Home to our families and our friends. Home to the land of convenience and variety in shopping. Home to craft beers! Home to fast food chicken sandwiches and reality TV and traffic laws and personal injury attorneys and exorbitantly priced medical care. And I’m feeling happy and accomplished of how far we’ve come in a year. And relieved that next year is going to be so much easier.

Construction

Here is an update on the construction in front of our apartment.

Cyclista

We live on a road that is one of the exits of a round-a-bout at a major intersection known as El Ciclista. It is called “The Cyclist” because of it being next to the side of Parque Metropolitano that features a BMX bike park, and because of the unique and unmistakable marionette-like unicyclist statue sitting in middle of the circle. About one month after moving into our apartment, crews began a major construction project that, sadly, saw the cyclist removed and the roads torn up into a tangle of chaos, blasting horns, and traffic cop whistles.

New University

Well, in the last 9 months there’s been quite a lot of progress. A university is being built across the street. It’s going to be a 7-story building that unfortunately, blocks almost our entire view of the Parque Metropolitano. And to ease the already stagnant clog of traffic that is constantly drudging through the Ciclista round-a-bout, a tunnel is being constructed. The tunnel should divert the Cumbaya traffic and take some of the volume away from the round-a-bout. The exit of the tunnel is directly under our bedroom window. And much of this construction has been occurring late and through the nighttime. Let’s just say we’ve had to break into our Nyquil reserves on a few occasions, just to manage a few hours sleep. 

New Tunnel

And though I would have much preferred the view of giant eucalyptus trees of the park rather than a looming university building, I do give the planners credit for laying a beautiful brick sidewalk, grass! (quite a luxury in this city), and even a few sapling trees. And while we literally unable to use our car for a few days, due the garage being inaccessible as the road was torn up, we have been treated to a freshly paved, painted, and now clearly designated two-way street in front of our apartment. You can see a few pictures of the current state of construction as it is now. Our hopes are that the majority of the road construction will be completed by the time we return in late August. Who knows, maybe even our Ciclista statue will be back!

Blue Box of Comfort

Certain foods will always remind us of home and give us that warm, contented feeling. I’ve come to grasp that this year when I realize there are foods that just aren’t available here, or if they are they’re imported and extremely expensive, or they’re a knockoff brand and just aren’t as good as the original. Take Oreos for example. I’ve never like Oreos. I’ve always shunned them as a cookie choice but Oreos are all over the place here. And I see them and go “Aww, Oreos! Just like at home!” And I have probably eaten about a dozen mini-packs of Oreos this year. I think it’s totally an emotional fix. Popular candy bars like Snickers, Twix, and Reese’s Cups are available here – in certain posh tiendas, for $2.50 each. So if you really want an American candy bar fix, it’s available to you, at a premium.

So Happy!!!

 But one of my most treasured comfort foods of all time is Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. I know, it’s disgusting. But there is something about that little envelope of orange powdered cheese that just makes me feel happy and full and safe. It probably has something to do with the fact that this was pretty much a staple lunch during the summers of my childhood. Parents are at work for the day + kids left to make their own meals = mac & cheese. Were there other options in the pantry? Of course. But mac & cheese is easy, it’s ready in 10 minutes, and it’s always delicious. ALWAYS.

Sadly, Kraft Macaroni and Cheese is one of the American junk foods that didn’t make the import cut. It’s unavailable here. Sure, there are other brands of macaroni and cheese. Dubious imposters all of them! I have tried all three brands available here and none of them can hold a candle to my treasured Blue Box.

Flash forward a few months. Justin and I are with my family in New Jersey to mourn the passing of my beloved Aunt Bette. And it was during this time when I finally got to meet my second cousin, Ann. Conversation turns to our experiences in Ecuador and what we miss about home, etc. Naturally food comes up. So I mention how much I miss Kraft Mac & Cheese (or KMC as it will now be referred to). Well of course she is understandably horrified and teases me for liking such a processed, junky food. She jokes about shipping me a box of KMC down to Ecuador. I explained to her how unreliable the mail system is, and that it’s a long shot and I may never get the package.

Well Ann takes this a challenge and decides she’s going to mail me a box of KMC. And sure enough! I got it! The package was post-marked April 23rd. It arrived to my school on May 19th. The postage required to mail a single box of KMC was $14.30!!!!! But by golly, she did it! And I got the package! What a sweetheart! I was elated to shake the package and hear the dry little elbow noodles moving around. The box was a little smashed up and some of the noodles had escaped the box and were loose inside the envelope. But I didn’t care, I gleefully brought my package home from school that day.

I waited for the right moment to enjoy my treat. Unable to decide on a proper wine pairing, I treated myself to an imported Stella beer ($3 for the single bottle). The perfect Saturday afternoon arrived. I cooked up my KMC, cracked open my Stella, found some old reruns of CSI on the TV and sat down to a lovely, comforting meal. And for that afternoon, I felt like I was at home again. THANKS ANN!!

Unrest

Earlier in the year I made a brief post talking about having a day off from school as a precautionary measure due to political protests. Well, they're back again. As someone who lives in this country but still considers himself a guest of the country, I will refrain from making or expressing my own political opinion on the issues taking place but you get the gist of what's happening here, here, or here.

One thing I do know is this, things got real last night. We were told by a few friends that the President would be returning from Europe last night and protests were planned at the airport to meet him, and all along the roads to his home. According to this person, the President was passing an unfair tax and while he was in Europe, he was purchasing a 3 million dollar home in Belgium with tax money. People were very upset. I don't know about the purchase of the house, but I do know he was there are an international meeting among leaders of various nations.

I've mentioned that we live close to the President, and we also live close to the highway that links the President's house to the airport. We took the extra precaution of walking the dog early so we were inside before anything went down...just in case. Well at around 7:30 we heard a lot of this:

The audio isn't great but you can tell that there were people in the street banging on pots and pans, whistling, chanting "Down with Correa", beeping horns, wearing black and other demonstrations of general unrest.

This went on for about a half hour and Shannon and I speculated that the President would be coming through shortly. So we did what anyone in our position would do, we pulled up some chairs to the window, got a drink, and sat own to see the show.

Riot Police Setting Up Shop

Next came the riot police. Yes, riot police. Outside of our apartment there were about 20-30 armed riot police complete with shields and what appeared to be guns, although it was hard to see since it was dark out. They stationed a handful of them down the street which was the entrance of the gated community the President lives in, another handful of them across the street from us, and the rest at the end of the street where the majority of the protest noise was coming from. The result of their presence was instant silence. People stopped banging on pots and went inside. It turned to a ghost town.

Army Truck Number 1

When the riot police set up in their formations, we started seeing two army trucks driving up and down our street with armed soldiers in the back of the truck. The soldiers never got out of the truck but the mere presence of an army regiment was enough to deter any violence.

After about 20 minutes we stopped watching due to the inactivity but for a while it felt like we were on the edge of some bad stuff going down.

Either way, we're safe and it luckily diffused before anything bad went down outside of our apartment.

Only in Ecuador-2

Seat belts are made of tires. In order to be safe on a motorcycle, one simply loops a tire around the waist of the person in front of you and holds on tight. That way they get a seat belt and you get handlebars. (Don't worry, I took the photo at a red light) Only in Ecuador.

Only in Ecuador-1

There are some things that happen here that require no additional words. They are things that only happen here in Ecuador. I'll post these from time to time with nothing more than a picture and an explanation of what's happening. The reasons, well I have no reasons.

Only in Ecuador will you walk the dog at 4:15am and see a flame thrower. When passing it I thought perhaps it was some sort of late night construction project that would be picked up in a few moments. Instead, when I came back down the road 40 minutes later I found the flame thrower still sitting there...facing the road and walkway. Still lit...Only in Ecuador.

What's Up Doc?

I came down with a cold “el gripe” a couple of weeks ago that turned into a sinus infection. And while it was a miserable two and half weeks, I did get a funny story out of it. Our school provides us with a list of preferred doctors and medical professionals, but only very few of them speak English. So I went to the one guy on the list that I knew I would be able to communicate with fully.

This certain doctor, I’ve noticed, after several visits to his office that week has a little ritual before he begins his exam. He opens up the little cabinet door in the exam room, retrieves a large rectangular glass bottle of ginger-scented cologne and rubs it on his hands and neck. He then proceeds to check your eyes, ears, and mouth – all while you are enveloped in the aroma of warm, fresh, clean ginger. It’s nice.

He took one look at me and diagnosed me with acute sinusitis. No surprise there. But rather than prescribing me antibiotics and sending me on my way as most doctors would have done, he started my treatment right away. First he gave me a breathing treatment with a bronchodilator solution. After that was finished, he sent his nurse in with a sinus irrigation bottle. Now, I’ve used a Netipot for years to flush out my sinuses and I regret not bringing it down here with me. But I have never had someone else actually operating the pot (or in this case, bottle) for me. I won’t go into graphic detail, but let’s just say that having your sinuses irrigated by a stranger is a very intimate, and extremely messy process. Once I got past the initial embarrassment, I was able to appreciate the instant relief.

And just when I thought my treatment was over, Dr. Ginger Hands repositioned the exam table and instructed me to lay down flat, face-down. Okay…this is weird, I thought. Dr. Ginger Hands walks out and now I’m alone in the exam room. A few moments later, I hear the door open again and then, much to my surprise I am being karate-chopped and slapped all up and down my back by the tiny, vigorous hands of the office cleaning lady. I am not joking, this was the same woman who was sweeping the floors and cleaning the windows when I arrived. And now she is attacking my back with a gusto and strategy. With cupped hands, she proceeds to pound and smack my back up and down, side to side. And this goes on for quite a while. Finally, she finishes working on my back and I’m allowed to sit back up. She smiles at me and leaves.

When the doctor returns, I ask him what the back-slapping was all about. He chuckles and explains that that treatment is meant to loosen all the mucus from the esophagus so that it can be swallowed and doesn’t reaming hanging on in your respiratory system. Gross. But effective.

So after an hour of treatment, I’m able to leave to pick up my antibiotics and start recovering. I do appreciate the hands-on experience as I feel it did a great deal to boost my recovery. And while I appreciate the nurse’s efforts, I think I will be bringing my own NetiPot back with me from the United States this time.

Cotopaxi

One of the things that makes our country and our city so unique is the beauty that surrounds it. Quito lies nestled in the Andes Mountains and is surrounded by a half dozen or so active volcanoes. Most of these active volcanoes are technically active but not usually doing stuff. The geological makeup of the area means that in any direction you look, you see cityscape. Everywhere you look the city slopes either up or down towards the side of a mountain. In the distance in every direction the horizon is broken by  massive rock mountainsides or rolling steep hills. It’s incredibly unique. However, the thing that makes living here so awe inspiring is the same thing that makes this place a potentially dangerous place to live.

Ring of Fire

Ecuador lies on the eastern portion of the “Ring of Fire.” Surrounding the Pacific Ocean, there are countless trenches and tectonic plates shifting and moving and making the Pacific Rim a seismically charged region. Most of the world’s tsunamis, earthquakes, and volcanoes lie on the edges of this ring. When one thing happens, there usually tends to be a chain reaction. An earthquake leads to tsunamis which lead to volcanic eruptions in some cases. Now as I say that, I must also make the disclaimer that most of these seismic moments of activity are relatively calm and benign. However, danger exists and caution should be practiced.

One of the largest active volcanoes in the world, Cotopaxi is relatively close to Quito. You may recall when I posted earlier this year about camping at its feet with 31 middle school kids. Well, the majestic beauty known as the neck of the moon is getting restless.

This week, we all received this email from the US Embassy:

U.S. Embassy Quito, Ecuador

Security Message for U.S. Citizens

Increased Activity on the Cotopaxi Volcano

The U.S. Mission in Ecuador advises U.S. citizens living or traveling in Ecuador that the Cotopaxi volcano, an active volcano near Quito, located within the Cotopaxi National Park in the Cotopaxi Province, has recently experienced a rise unusual activity.  According to the Ecuadorian Geophysical Institute, since mid-April 2015, Cotopaxi has experienced an unusually high level of seismic activity, more frequent movement of magma inside the volcano, and an increase in sulfur dioxide emissions, resulting in periodic sulfur smells and visible vapor emissions (fumarole activity).  While the Ecuadorian government has not announced any alerts for the Cotopaxi volcano at this time, U.S. citizens are advised to take precautions and monitor the news for updates. 

U.S. citizens are also reminded that the Tungurahua volcano, near the tourist community of Baños in Tungurahua Province, and the Wolf volcano, located on an uninhabited area of Isabela Island in the Galapagos Islands chain, are currently undergoing eruption cycles, along with other volcanoes in Ecuador.  For more information on current activity, visit the Spanish-language website of the Ecuadorian Geophysical Institute, which monitors volcanoes and earthquakes.

My Old Friend

 So…there’s that. After talking to a few locals and science people I was assured of a few things.

First, I heard if Cotopaxi blew, it would be so large that even though it is very far away, we’d be relatively guaranteed of imminent death due to the amount of ash. A much smaller volcano erupted nearly in 2000 and the city was coated with 2-3 inches of ash for weeks. If the mammoth Cotopaxi blew it would be catastrophic to the people living nearby due to lava flow and environmentally catastrophic to anyone who likes the sun, plants, or breathing.

Second, I heard it was nothing to worry about. If Cotopaxi blew it would likely be a small eruption that would spew some sulfur and a little bit of ash and likely be it.

Third I heard that even though seismic activity has been increasing, the chances of living near a volcano that produces life-ending results is about 1/3,000,000,000.

Hold tight big girl, don't lose your cool

Who knows what to believe? We leave to go back to the states in a few weeks so I can only hope if something happens here it is mild enough not to destroy the city that I call my home or the residents who I call my neighbors. We were told that if it happens and it's bad that it would be best to drive north to Colombia. The roads in and out of Quito are pretty small and there aren't many ways in and out so if anything happened we'd need to be ready. We're hoping all is good, and in all likelihood it will be, but in true Boy Scout fashion we are prepared anyway. We have a backpack with blankets, batteries, flash lights, water, canned food, cash, matches, dog food, an extra leash, and some medicine waiting in our apartment just in case something happens. Not likely that we'll need it but I'd rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it. Cotopaxi is nothing to be trifled with and while I will be monitoring the progress of the upset belly of this beast I will be hoping and praying that it is closer to indigestion than an overdue explosion. 

The League

Earlier in the year I detailed how I was part of a weekly Thursday night pickup basketball thing. It is still going on and has been a fantastic way to me to get in better shape, network with people from around Quito, and have a good time.

Since then, we have also started an adult league that has been a blast. Playing basketball is one of my favorite things to do but I haven't been in an organized league since I played for my high school team. In this league, there are 6 teams. There are teams from other international schools, a team from the embassy, a team of guys who work at the airport, and the team from a local university.

It's a ton of fun and pretty official. There are refs and scorekeepers.Some teams hire coaches. Most teams get uniforms professionally made (but we don't). Many of the guys who play in our league (I believe 5-6) play on the Ecuadorian National Team and regularly compete in qualifiers for the Olympics so you could certainly say that while basketball isn't as big as soccer, we are playing against the best people in the entire country.

We play two games per week and the games last about an hour and a half or so.

It was told to me before but has become apparent since that the Ecuadorian referees love to express some of their personal preferences in games. Gringos get fouled a lot with no calls and if a gringo is near an opposing teammate they somehow foul them every time without touching them. I'm not one to complain about things that aren't under one's control in a game of basketball but it gets dangerous. The guy who organizes the league (a gringo from Kansas) had his shoulder separated last year and required surgery. Another teacher, has to get 15 stitches in his face last year. Both plays, no foul. I don't bring it up to complain, but rather to paint an accurate picture of the experience I'm having.

Terrible refs aside, it's been an amazing experience. I've met a lot of local guys, made some friends, and really enjoyed myself. So far we are 1-2. We got smoked by the airport guys. We lost in a close overtime game to the teachers from the local French school (defending champions) and beat another local American International school pretty badly. We're gearing up for another game tomorrow against the local university team.

Matricula!!!!

HA! On January 8, I posted a story about how it had taken 17 days to get our car after we purchased it. “Oh, also we still don’t have the car. It was paid for and the contract was signed 17 days ago. I now have my license. The transfer is officially accounted for and processed and we don’t have our car. We hope that will be resolved today or tomorrow; but while the hopes are high the expectations are not.” What a fool I was. If you are ever in a situation where your patience is tried as we were when we purchased the car, I want you to always keep in mind that it can, and probably will get worse.

In Ecuador, when you purchase a car, you get something called a matricula. Essentially a matricula amounts to a car’s title, registration, and emissions inspection all in one. It is reasonable to expect the transaction of a matricula to take as long as getting a car’s registration in your name when you make a purchase. It’s essentially the same step. But not here!

I have not posted anything about this process since we purchased the car for fear of jinxing us. This week, we finally got our matricula. It took 153 days. Now, for context here are some things that one can do in 153 days: 2 trimesters of child incubating, biking across the United States, and about 1/8 of a Presidential term.

Over the 153 days, we visited the dealership between 9-19 times to harass the dealership manager and the salesman who sold it to us. I heard the phrase “We’re so sorry, we’ll have it done by Monday Wednesday Friday” at the very latest about 60 times. Our friend who helped us through this process, and I made about 90 phone calls to the Jefe (boss), his cell phone, the dealership in general, and the car salesman. Every time we heard the famous Ecuadorian phrase “manana manana”

Apparently, the dealership received the car because the previous owner had passed away. She did not have a proper will and therefore her valuables were split between her 5 children. The executor of the will sold the car and split the money but without securing the legally necessary contractual agreements of all 5 children to sell their share. As a result, while the dealership had possession of the car, they did not legally own it. Therefore it was illegal to sell it to us. But..they did and pandemonium ensued.

Either way, 153 days older and wiser we have our matricula and we officially own our car. That’s all that matters now.

Graffiti Junction

Just one small example

All around the world, there are cities and countries that are known for “tagging” or graffiti artwork. I have limited knowledge on it but my understanding of graffiti is that it started as an impromptu form of protest-like expression. Graffiti, when done well and done right is not merely a spray paint fueled defacing of property.

It's all around the city

Something I did not know until very recently is that Ecuador has a rich graffiti culture. There are artists who are considered famous in Quito who go under the cover of night to transform clay walls, barriers, and buildings into works of public art. All around the city, wherever you look you see incredibly intricate designs and paintings. I’ve seen 80 foot long dragons, oppressed farmers yelling in rage, and bunny rabbits doing vulgar things. It’s really quite interesting.

Along with the beautiful artwork that you see around, there is also a lot of protest-centered text spray painted around. My understanding is that at the moment, there are many people who are upset with the current President and his Socialist leanings and I’ve read sentences scrawled across signs and storefronts that can attest to that. I feel like that’s a site to be expected in a city with such a rich street art culture.

Don't you dare forget to capitalize.

But one thing I never expected is to see the work of a vigilante grammar avenger. While walking to school recently, Shannon and I noticed that a politically critical sentence that had been written on the side of a building had been corrected for grammar errors, using red spray paint. It was an image that got my mind rolling to the possibilities of pocket protector and cape wielding grammar enthusiasts hiding beneath the cover of the shadows to correct a misplaced accent or poor punctuation. I’m not sure if it was a student due to the close proximity of the school (highly doubtful) or just a well-meaning tagger on his or her way to paint a condor shrieking in the night but either way I surely appreciated it.

EcoVia

EcoVia Stop

On Friday of this week a few of the guys decided that we should take advantage of Happy Hour at a local restaurant. It was downtown which would have been a 35 minute drive on a normal day but on a Friday, it would have been at least an hour and a half. Traffic gets bad in Quito. It gets especially nasty on Fridays from 2:00-9:00 so we all decided to take the EcoVia instead.

The EcoVia is the bus system. It runs North through South through all of Quito and in most parts of the city there are separate bus lanes that allow the busses to pass through traffic. A ride on the EcoVia is a quarter.  It is a nice alternative to driving and cabs except for one thing, everyone knows it. The EcoVia is always stupidly full. There are no regulations as to a “maximum” amount of people on it. I have frequently seen it driving past me on the road with well over 200 people in it. Mind you, it is the size of a normal bus that is meant to seat about 50 or so. On the EcoVia, it gets so cramped that any semblance of the idea of personal space disappears. On the EcoVia you are frequently close enough to count the ingrown hairs on the neck of the person in front of you.

Imagine this plus fitting a dozen or so
more people

While that is to be expected, what is not expected is the amount of crime on the EcoVia. People will frequently ride the bus with the sole intent of pick pocketing you. It gets so crowded that your limbs are limited in their movement. If one hand is on the handle or bar above your head while standing, you have at least three pockets unprotected. We have heard stories of people being pickpocketed, having things taken out of the bottom of their backpack, and a variety of other creative theft strategies. It’s pretty disappointing.

On Friday, a group of 10 or so gringos (already standing out) dressed in shirts and ties (aka neck targets) got on the EcoVia and through some clever interior jacket pockets/strategic placement of wallets and cell phones, and general vigilance none of us were robbed. After the happy hour however one of our friends had his wallet and cell phone taken. Just another reminder of the dichotomy of benefit (convenient and quick $.25 bus ride) and dangerous circumstances (crazy high likelihood of petty theft)that are ever present when you live in a South American country.