Everything's bigger in..... THE GALAPAGOS!

You thought I was going to say Texas, didn't you?  Well proud Texans may banter this saying when they are trying to convince every person they meet how awesome their state is, but now I'm thinking that it's most appropriate for the galapagos islands.  To be honest I really wasn't expecting them to be as grandiose as they turned out to be.  I spent so much time planning and comparing different tours, flight prices, island hopping routes, hotel options and travel agencies that by the time everything was booked and the itinerary was printed I almost wasn't that excited to go.  It was almost like all the planning I had done made me feel like I had experienced the islands already and I didn't really have to go anymore.  But I was wrong.

The Galapagos Islands were amazing!  Really they were truly wonderful and now I am unabashedly going to rant about them and try to convince the world that everyone should try to see them for themselves someday.

Guava, Papaya y Fresa Oh My!

As soon as I return to the United States I will mourn the absence of all the fresh fruits and vegetables that I find myself surrounded by here in Ecuador.  So I figured that if I blogged about the topic I might be able to alleviate some of the pain I am going to experience during the produce withdrawal stage of re-entry into my native country.  There are definitely some things that I have not gotten used to about South America, but the fresh produce is most certainly not one of them.

  

 

There are markets all over Cuenca that have literally tons of fruit, vegetables and meat.  I typically avoid the meat sections though because a) I can't stand the stench and b) what's the point, I'm a vegetarian.  Apparently before the government decided to make an effort to organize the selling of fruits and vegetables and began constructing the markets nearly 20 years ago the sale of produce was a little more chaotic.  People selling their goods would just line the streets with baskets or boxes of food, rotting away in the heat and sun.  Now I can just stop by one of the huge roofed buildings on my way home from work and pick up all the vegetables I need to cook dinner that night.  Some nights I don't cook and just eat OREOS.  Don't judge, you know you do it sometimes too.  

  

Markets are also very interesting places to absorb the culture.  This is true whether you fancy people watching or simply gazing at the strangest looking produce you've ever seen and wondering how the heck someone would even begin to cook/eat it.  Then you can buy the weird looking tuber or whatever it is, take it home, and experience some more culture right there in your own kitchen.  Unfortunately it might take a few attempts and meals tossed in the garbage before you finally figure out how to turn the strange looking food into an edible substance.  (Peel the yuca people!)

One thing for sure is that I will invest in a good blender when I get back to the States.  I have ingested more juice during my time here in South America than I have in all my previous years of living.  It has become a customary process in the kitchen, like it is for so many Ecuadorians, to make a jugo.  Jugo for breakfast, jugo for lunch, jugo for dinner.  Mora jugo, mango jugo, papaya jugo.  It becomes sort of like a game.  You try making jugos out of fruits that you have never seen before in your life.  You begin to think that you are some sort of expert at deciding which fruit combos will go best together.  When really the whole process is not that scientific.  You throw a bunch of fruit in a blender, add a bit of water, and hit the button.  Strain the seeds out if you want but it doesn't really matter.

After a while you begin to realize how many dollars you have spent (and could have saved) in the past buying brand name juices from the grocery store.  You swear to yourself that you will not give in to consumer demand when you get back and you will make your own juices naturally with your fancy new blender.  We'll see if I keep that up when I return....

¡Viva Cuenca!

Holidays are not taken lightly here in Cuenca, not to mention in other places in Ecuador I've traveled through.  The excitement of Valentine's Day alone almost made me want to buy myself a giant teddy bear that said TE AMO across its chest and take it home to live with me forever.  And I do like the idea of holidays where you are allowed to go crazy and douse your friends with water.  But for the most part I've been a little stand-offish.  I mean what will they think if I, a foreigner, took part in their festivities?  Would they think I was mocking them if I took photos of all the illegal fireworks being set off all over the city?  Would it not be as funny if I sprayed silly string in their faces?  So I've just taken to shuffling through the crowds as water balloons were chucked from rooftops at innocent pedestrians walking by and trying not to gawk at the strangest looking parade floats I've ever seen.

But eventually you come to a breaking point.  And the infectious pride Cuencanos have for their city will soon seep into your bones as well.  And suddenly it won't be annoying every time a taxi driver asks if you love their city or not.  Because before they can even get the question out of their mouths you'll be shouting Yes!  Yes I love Cuenca!  It is the most wonderful place in the world!  And you won't care if it has rained fourteen days straight in a row because you are in Cuenca, and you love it.

Well this happened to me.  Something snapped and when it came time to run the 15K race that was held in honor of the Foundation of the City of Cuenca I wanted to show my pride.  Now I was told it wasn't uncommon for some of the runners to dress up for the race.  So I prepared diligently.  My race bag was packed well before I finally drifted off to sleep the night before the festival.  And despite the beginnings of a seemingly dreary day looming outside my window the next morning, I bounded out of my house towards the race start donning my costume.

It was a tough race.  I've ran long distance races before, but none at 8,500 feet above sea level.  I had a mental obstacle to overcome as well: no one was wearing a costume!  But eventually this worked towards my advantage.  Along every route Cuencanos had gathered, despite the drizzle, to cheer the racers on.  And when I came into their sights, they shouted things like "La Cuencanita!" and other patriotic sayings I didn't quite catch entirely.  But I could tell that they appreciated the effort I had made to celebrate their city.  Maybe they even felt honored that I would go to such lengths to look so silly and run all across their town.  Ultimately I realized that it is worth it to participate in the festivities of the city you live in, even if you are a foreigner.  The locals won't despise you and they might even ask to take a photo with you.  Especially if you are wearing a superman cape and face paint.

¡Viva Cuenca!

Proud runners donning our medals

Graffiti and Old Buildings

I never realized that living in a foreign country could mean being just as busy as back in my home country.  People still have jobs to do, food to buy, kids to look after, errands to run.  This illuminates the universal truth that: life is life, no matter where you are.  This past month I've found myself utilizing each free moment I have just to get everything done that I need to.  It's been kind of surreal, while bustling to work, to pass century old buildings and churches.  I'm trying to soak in all of my beautiful surroundings, but I'm also concerned with commonplace worries such as planning lessons for my students or figuring out how to complete a simple errand.  (You would be surprised to learn just how difficult it could be to find a place that sells pantyhose).  Following are glimpses that I catch of Cuenca during my typical route to work.

My view as I walk down the hill towards town

My local pharmacy 

A plaza I walk through every morning on my way to work

"ONE LAND, ONE LOVE"

So far I've found that my glimpses of Cuenca have been more of a speedy slide show.  Images flash by me as I rush around, trying to fit in everything I need to do.  And as I put the pictures together in my mind, I find they initially appear rather disjointed.  Because among the antique aspects of the city are the additions of modern society.  But although contrastingly different, the graffiti seems to fit very naturally with the city's other attributes.

Another plaza I pass on my right every day

Church in the plaza, Santo Domingo

Graffiti on a door

There is beauty in every aspect of a town.  I consider myself blessed to be able to appreciate all of Cuenca's beautiful features, both old and new, as I'm trying to find the post office or rushing to the bank before it closes.  Above all it should never be assumed that living in another country automatically equates a vacation from reality.  Your surroundings may be different, but you still need to buy toilet paper.

Turning the corner onto Parque Calderón

Corner building facing the park

Government building facing the park

Jingle Bell Hip Hop Man?

The graffiti in Cuenca is very diverse.  It ranges from a youthful painting to a delicate drawing.  Sometimes I wonder whether or not the artist put as much thought and effort into their work as did the original architects of the 52 churches that lie within the city limits.  Nevertheless, it can be somewhat startling to walk down the street and suddenly see what looks like a pregnant alien spray painted onto the side of a 100 year old building.

Old buildings mixed with modern ones

YOU CAN'T PARK HERE!

That's all for now!  See you next time!

Canine Comfort

The term "culture shock" is thrown around a lot regarding traveling or living abroad.  I think I prefer to simply call it frustration.  There are many frustrations that come with traveling/living abroad.  As foreigners we are told how to get somewhere or do something, and thus begins a wild goose chase.  Getting a drivers license turns into a day or week long affair.  Registering our passport requires multiple visits to the consulate, getting different instructions each time.  Trying to wire money home only to find out that the location you always used just "doesn't do that anymore".  Scouring the town just to find peanut butter or tortillas (that's me).  These minute errands exhaust us, leave us hopeless, and ready to watch about four movies in a row on our laptops.

A coworker here in Cuenca recently related a particularly aggravating experience trying to find the grocery store.  This happens more often than you think, after you move to a new city in a foreign country.  According to Tracey, her shopping experience once she actually found the grocery store was even more unfulfilling (also a common occurrence, sadly).  But as she fumed out to find a taxi, less than half the items she was originally looking for in hand, she rounded the corner and found herself facing a pet store display window.  An out of body experience thus ensued.  Tracey, entranced, felt her worries and anger dissipate by just watching puppies bound around, roll over each other, tug on each others ears, even snooze on top of one another.

After an excruciatingly long day of planning, studying, and teaching and an even more painful walk back uphill to my house on the north side of Cuenca there are not many happy thoughts floating through my head.  But after I open the gate and begin to ascend the stairs up to our second level house I catch a glimpse of Noche, eagerly awaiting me at the top.

It's magical really, the effect having a dog has on me.  Maybe it's their demeanor.  They are always so relaxed; nothing worries them.  Just having that kind of aura around you can help eliminate the stress that your day (or week) has accumulated.  Even Luna, Noche's mother who looks kind of like Falcore from The Neverending Story but on crack, can make me want to just sit on the couch with them and read a book.  Nevertheless please don't read this and assume that every dog you see on the street in Cuenca is going to curl up into your lap and smell like roses.  The street dogs are a whole different breed entirely, as in other foreign countries I've traveled.

Taming a street dog is particularly difficult.  I inherited a dog rescued from the street in South Korea.  We had named him Humperdink (The Princess Bride) and he thought the entire world, indoors or outdoors, was his to urinate on.  Thankfully this habit was eventually broken, and the rest of our time together was heavenly.  I still miss him to this day.  Just like I'll miss Noche when I depart from here.

Using My Knuckles

If someone had told me, as I stumbled through high school a grumpy and irritable adolescent, that I would spend a majority of my adult life living and working in other countries, I would have shrugged the idea off.  Of course it would have tantalized my senses a little bit but the thought would have been forgotten by 6th period choir.  The truth is in high school, or even in college for that matter, you can't even begin to predict yourself what life highway you will get on.  So I guess I'm not all that surprised at the international exposure I have had.  The tricky thing is once on life's highway, how to navigate to your next destination.  I like to recommend a seemingly archaic tactic.  All you need to do is use your knuckles.

I can remember being younger and going on road trips with my father.  I was his dutiful navigator and I treasured my task.  I clutched the unnecessarily large atlas mindlessly, similar to how you would a TV remote.  You don't need it.  In fact you really enjoy the program you are watching.  But it feels good to simply have it in your hand.  Just in case you need to change the channel.  When my father asked me questions about our voyage, I loved to consult the maps.  How far is our next exit?  Where is the next rest stop?  About what time will we get there?  I buried my head between the pages, analyzed our location and current speed, measured the distance we needed to travel, and compared it to the map scale.  It was always a crude estimate; I used my knuckles to measure distances on the map.  Yet somehow it always gave me an accurate response.  My father would nod trustingly and continue to belt out his rendition of "If we are going, to San Francisco".  I never minded that I didn't understand the time period he sang about.  I would relax back into my seat, atlas still spread open on my lap, and gaze out the window at the midwestern scenery.  (I've never been to San Francisco).

I held off as long as I could before I began using electronic navigators.  I would take road trips throughout high school and college, with my atlas still on my lap.  It seemed more authentic of a trip to use the crude tools of perspective and human judgement.  I also felt slightly uncomfortable about a computer making my navigation decisions for me.  It's not like I wasn't involved in the process; I still decided where to go.  Still there is nothing like the dynamic process of standing back and taking a look at the bigger picture.  Even if it's just to feel good about the progress you've made.  Life can be the same.  It can be overwhelmingly refreshing to take your map out every once in a while, evaluate the distance to your next destination, examine your current speed and trajectory, then use your knuckles to see when you are going to get there.

I've been doing that for quite some time.  I think about what I want to do next, make plans to go there, and calculate how long it will take me to accomplish my goal.  I guess that is what has brought me here to Cuenca, Ecuador.  I never thought about teaching in South America until I was halfway through a teaching contract in Asia.  Strange how things like that happen.  Regardless, with the idea in mind, I set my internal navigation system and prepared to depart.  The rest is history.  Or at least it will be as long as I continue blogging about all my experiences in Latin America.

The plane that brought me to Cuenca!  I arrived on such a gorgeous day.