This is a collection of random thoughts and experiences in Ecuador that I don't want to forget, it will be updated periodicially...
1. Remember the unmarked hole in the road that I wrote about in the blog about riding the bus? And I wondered how cars miss it? Well they don't. I saw some poor guy with his family in quite the pickle because he had run the corner of his car into that hole.
2. Forget sleeping on picnic tables at rest stops, this truck driver hung a hammock from the bottom of his truck and went to sleep on the side of the road.
3. There's a really popular restaurant that our boss took us to, he used to go there when he was our age. Here's the catch, all workers must be gay/transvestites. Our waiter was first a man but now a woman. Apparently it's been like that from the beginning. But the food was really good!
4. The family vehicle is a motorcycle. You see 1 and 2 years olds on motorcycles all the time with their parents. I think the most I've seen is a mother, father, and 2 kids on the same motorcycle. Although I may have seen 5 people on one once.
5. On our way to Quito we passed a man plowing his field... with Oxen.
6. Our kitchen faucet sounds like a sinking ship.
7. Every couple of days we get attacked by a large army of ants. For this reason our apartment usually has the fresh smell of insect poison. I am 100% sure I will be bringing ants home in my suitcase.
8. 6 liters of water is really heavy to carry for 20 minutes.
9. Orange juice + soy = who does that?? Oh yeah, Columbia apparently.
10. Institute dances are held with the lights on. And everyone dances with only one person the whole night. And you just shuffle your feet in a about a 4 inch radius to the salsa. In a line. It's a very confining feeling. If you start waving your arms or moving your head a lot to the beat, like an American, people stare. Or the guy you're dancing with laughs at you.
11. 8 pieces of bacon costs about $3.
12. The bakeries have cakes and pastries that look like works of art. They look delicious. They are better off as art. Sugar isn't very sweet here, and unfailingly their beautiful desserts are disgusting. Look but don't touch.
13. The tank truck is what I affectionately call the money trucks. They show up at supermarkets, gas stations, malls, businesses... any time money is transferred they have an armed band of about 5 men in uniform with large guns. So when you are buying water at the gas station while this is taking place there is a man with a large gun standing behind the counter, 2 feet from you.
14. Ecuador can never make change for your cash. You pay with a $5 for a $3 purchase and you still have to wait 5 minutes for someone to bring change. Or at markets, they run around to all the neighboring tiendas to change out your $10 or $20 bill. It's so strange.
15. Customer Service isn't a very top priority in these parts.
16. Every ice cream flavor tastes a bit like coconut.
17. Wanna do something really wild and rebellious? ... Brush your teeth with tap water.
18. Iguana roadkill. Enough Said.
19. You know how Americans always try to sneak into meetings and classes if they are late? Ecuadorians come in loudly, and while the teacher is teaching will say "Buenos Dias" to everyone or individually greet people, including the teacher. There is absolutely no shame in interrupting.
20. Another cultural difference: Americans don't like to correct each other. We will just sit silently and think, "I know what they meant", if they say a word wrong while reading, we let them go on. Not Ecuadorians. They will correct you and keep correcting you until you acknowledge your mistake and correct it. And they will argue until a matter is resolved, no matter how small, and how much it does not relate to the main point of the lesson or conversation.
21. You never know when you are going to get hit by a car.
22. I bought a pineapple for 90 cents.
23. There are random men directing parallel parking along the road. They expect to get paid for their services but they usually don't. But the point is, if there's not enough room for your car, the man will just shove the other cars forward or backward to make room for yours! So, if you come back and your car is a few feet from where you left it, that's why.
24. Forget chainsaws, I saw a man cut down a tree down the street from my apartment with a machete! Yeah, the whole tree.
25. When Becky and I see an airplane taking off(we live a mile from the airport so we see a LOT), we almost feel like we should stop and place our hand over our heart as a sign of respect and liberty.
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
The Tank Truck
My ode to the tank truck.
Oh tank truck, what pure power you convey,
Your pure green camouflage color leaves me awestruck,
And you undoubtedly keep others at bay.
Those intimidating men with big guns form a strict line,
Which starts at your truck frame with no doors,
And runs inside to where the money lies in it's shrine.
All the while I watch, as your engine roars.
I admire your bullet proof windows,
The guards pacing back and forth, intent on their mission,
And think how they stand ready to deal out deathblows,
And with this, my face goes a bit ashen.
I can't help but want to take a picture,
But a funny feeling of hesitation prevents me,
Gun shot wounds, i just don't think I could endure,
Yep, that would definitely be crummy.
And so I continue thinking,
That maybe an ode to the tank truck will just have to do,
Oh tank truck, you at first seemed so frightning,
But I must admit, I've grown rather fond of you.
Oh tank truck, what pure power you convey,
Your pure green camouflage color leaves me awestruck,
And you undoubtedly keep others at bay.
Those intimidating men with big guns form a strict line,
Which starts at your truck frame with no doors,
And runs inside to where the money lies in it's shrine.
All the while I watch, as your engine roars.
I admire your bullet proof windows,
The guards pacing back and forth, intent on their mission,
And think how they stand ready to deal out deathblows,
And with this, my face goes a bit ashen.
I can't help but want to take a picture,
But a funny feeling of hesitation prevents me,
Gun shot wounds, i just don't think I could endure,
Yep, that would definitely be crummy.
And so I continue thinking,
That maybe an ode to the tank truck will just have to do,
Oh tank truck, you at first seemed so frightning,
But I must admit, I've grown rather fond of you.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Paranoia and Scary Stories
In honor of Halloween I have decided to dedicate this blog to the happenings of the last couple of days and tell you all of the ways I have learned that I could die in Ecuador. It all started with one big misunderstanding. You see, we have learned the hard way that we are expected to check in with our boss when we are traveling, just so they know where we are because they feel responsible for us. So, when we went to Cuenca we were so proud of ourselves for calling Johnny and letting him know that we had arrived safely and had a hotel room. We have lived on our own for years and this whole having to report to people for our wellbeing is a big step for us. So, we returned from Cuenca and had been in our apartment for no more than 5 minutes, and it was Johnny on the phone. He then proceeded to tell me something about how people were really worried about us, that someone by the name of Fernando had even called SLC and had our Salt Lake people going crazy with worry and that he was getting calls every 5 minutes to see if we had arrived yet. So, just to let us know, they had called SLC, and then he asked about our trip and if we had fun and whatnot. I got off the phone very confused, because for once Johnny didn't even seem worried about us. And so I told Becky the story but we didn't know a Fernando, and who on earth would know to call Mimi in SLC? I was pretty sure I understood Johnny's Spanish, and pretty sure that the story was correct but it didn't make sense and I thought I was going crazy.
Shortly after, our cell phone rang. It was Landes from BYU, wanting to make sure we're alive. We assured him we were and he told us Johnny had called SLC and that everyone was in a frenzy. I was pretty sure Johnny said some guy named Fernando had called SLC and not himself so after getting off the phone w/ Landes I called Johnny back. I told him, "We just talked with Landes from SLC, and we don't understand what happened" and he said, "me neither".
Johnny proceeded to explain that his boss, the area welfare manager, who lives in Bogota, Columbia is in town and started asking about us. Johnny told him we were traveling and so his boss started asking all sorts of questions, where we were, who we were with, how long we were going to be gone, etc. Johnny basically said, they're by themselves but I put them in contact with the employment specialist in Cuenca, and they called when they arrived, and are traveling today. Johnny had to leave the office for a few hours and when he returned his boss had called SLC, extremely worried for our safety for some reason, thinking we were lost to Ecuador. So, we sent lots of e-mails, talked on the phone, and assured our bosses and those in SLC that we are alive and there weren't any problems and we didn't know why Johnny's boss was so worried and had called SLC.
Johnny's boss is named Carlos Fernandez, not Fernando. But between Becky and I, we still affectionately call him Fernando. And he wanted to meet with us this morning. So we went in and had quite the lecture about safety. He explained how if anything happened to us it would be an international crisis for the church and for BYU. He then gave us guidelines, saying we should check in every day when we are traveling, pay a little bit more for a secure hotel, and never take a taxi from the street. Well, our hotel although only $7 a night in Cuenca was plenty secure, and I suppose he doesn't know that we don't actually ever go out after dark because it's not safe, and when we are traveling we are seriously in bed at 9 p.m. But the taxi thing was a new one. This is when we found out about all the ways we could die in Ecuador.
Hermano Fernandez explained that Ecuador has become more dangerous in the last 8 months because of the rise in unemployment, poverty, and government changes. Also, apparently they recently released a whole prison full of people and so there are tons of thieves running loose on the streets. He told us more about a drug we have heard about. We have been advised not to take anything from anyone because there could be a drug on the paper that makes you lose your freewill. He explained that the drug is absorbed through the skin and so you lose your freewill but are still conscience and will do anything you are told, whether this includes sex, robbing a bank, or killing someone. Then, when the drug wears off the victim won't remember a thing. He also talked about taxis and how we could be kidnapped and there was a girl kidnapped recently when she took a taxi to institute and nobody knows what happened to her. Typically girls kidnapped in taxis are either shipped off to Japan for prostitution, or to the FARC (columbian drug lords) for prostitution, or they are killed and their organs are sold.
Well, none of these options sounded attractive and so when we went grocery shopping after our safety lecture, we decided to walk instead of taking the taxi like we usually do. I'm not sure if we did this out of obedience to our leader or out of fear of murder and kidnapping. So, we walked the 20 minutes home laden with heavy bags of milk, fruits, and vegetables. We just about died, it doesn't help that one of Becky's arms is broken. We laughed the whole way as everyone looked at us like we were crazy and as we took like 5 breaks to avoid our arms falling off. We were exhausted when we arrived home but satisfied that we were alive. We decided that maybe Ecuador really is as dangerous as people say, they obviously have a reason to worry. Maybe we have just been protected, we've taken a lot of taxis in our day. And so maybe Hermano Fernandez over reacted with the whole calling SLC thing, but maybe we should also just take the danger more seriously. One thing is for sure, we'll probably never get into another taxi again. We still kind of laugh at the paranoia of the men of Ecuador that have charge over us but at the same time, being lectured for the first time in as long as we can remember, did have some sort of effect on us. I'm not really sure what more we can do to be safe, we're pretty cautious but apparently everyone still thinks we're going to die if we go outside of our house. We're working on convincing them that we really won't.
Shortly after, our cell phone rang. It was Landes from BYU, wanting to make sure we're alive. We assured him we were and he told us Johnny had called SLC and that everyone was in a frenzy. I was pretty sure Johnny said some guy named Fernando had called SLC and not himself so after getting off the phone w/ Landes I called Johnny back. I told him, "We just talked with Landes from SLC, and we don't understand what happened" and he said, "me neither".
Johnny proceeded to explain that his boss, the area welfare manager, who lives in Bogota, Columbia is in town and started asking about us. Johnny told him we were traveling and so his boss started asking all sorts of questions, where we were, who we were with, how long we were going to be gone, etc. Johnny basically said, they're by themselves but I put them in contact with the employment specialist in Cuenca, and they called when they arrived, and are traveling today. Johnny had to leave the office for a few hours and when he returned his boss had called SLC, extremely worried for our safety for some reason, thinking we were lost to Ecuador. So, we sent lots of e-mails, talked on the phone, and assured our bosses and those in SLC that we are alive and there weren't any problems and we didn't know why Johnny's boss was so worried and had called SLC.
Johnny's boss is named Carlos Fernandez, not Fernando. But between Becky and I, we still affectionately call him Fernando. And he wanted to meet with us this morning. So we went in and had quite the lecture about safety. He explained how if anything happened to us it would be an international crisis for the church and for BYU. He then gave us guidelines, saying we should check in every day when we are traveling, pay a little bit more for a secure hotel, and never take a taxi from the street. Well, our hotel although only $7 a night in Cuenca was plenty secure, and I suppose he doesn't know that we don't actually ever go out after dark because it's not safe, and when we are traveling we are seriously in bed at 9 p.m. But the taxi thing was a new one. This is when we found out about all the ways we could die in Ecuador.
Hermano Fernandez explained that Ecuador has become more dangerous in the last 8 months because of the rise in unemployment, poverty, and government changes. Also, apparently they recently released a whole prison full of people and so there are tons of thieves running loose on the streets. He told us more about a drug we have heard about. We have been advised not to take anything from anyone because there could be a drug on the paper that makes you lose your freewill. He explained that the drug is absorbed through the skin and so you lose your freewill but are still conscience and will do anything you are told, whether this includes sex, robbing a bank, or killing someone. Then, when the drug wears off the victim won't remember a thing. He also talked about taxis and how we could be kidnapped and there was a girl kidnapped recently when she took a taxi to institute and nobody knows what happened to her. Typically girls kidnapped in taxis are either shipped off to Japan for prostitution, or to the FARC (columbian drug lords) for prostitution, or they are killed and their organs are sold.
Well, none of these options sounded attractive and so when we went grocery shopping after our safety lecture, we decided to walk instead of taking the taxi like we usually do. I'm not sure if we did this out of obedience to our leader or out of fear of murder and kidnapping. So, we walked the 20 minutes home laden with heavy bags of milk, fruits, and vegetables. We just about died, it doesn't help that one of Becky's arms is broken. We laughed the whole way as everyone looked at us like we were crazy and as we took like 5 breaks to avoid our arms falling off. We were exhausted when we arrived home but satisfied that we were alive. We decided that maybe Ecuador really is as dangerous as people say, they obviously have a reason to worry. Maybe we have just been protected, we've taken a lot of taxis in our day. And so maybe Hermano Fernandez over reacted with the whole calling SLC thing, but maybe we should also just take the danger more seriously. One thing is for sure, we'll probably never get into another taxi again. We still kind of laugh at the paranoia of the men of Ecuador that have charge over us but at the same time, being lectured for the first time in as long as we can remember, did have some sort of effect on us. I'm not really sure what more we can do to be safe, we're pretty cautious but apparently everyone still thinks we're going to die if we go outside of our house. We're working on convincing them that we really won't.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Prostitutes, Nuns, and Mormons
What in the world would ever bring these 3 groups of people together into the same room? Well, let me tell you. The Self-Employment workshop, that's what. Yes, that's right, our 2nd week of teaching, we were enlisted to teach in the mornings to this eclectic group, as well as in the evenings at a stake in Guayaquil. Here's the story: Apparently the nuns put on street clothes and go to the sector of the city where the prostitutes are working and then say something along the lines of "Why are you doing this? Don't you want something better? Come with me and we'll put your life back together" or something along those lines. The prostitutes then make the decision to change their life and follow the nuns to the convent where they go through some sort of rehabilitation and faith building program. The nuns contacted LDS Employment Services, wanting to put these ex-prostitutes through the workshop to help them get on their feet and start their own small businesses. I think the idea is to open a hair cutting salon, and the church has agreed to work with them and is even donating something like $5,000 to the cause to buy the lot space for the salon.
So, we taught the group, 2 nuns, something like 4 Mormons, and the rest ex-prostitutes. I hate labeling them like that, but that's what they were. However, they took the workshop and it was a lot of fun teaching them and helping them learn. Some were more enthusiastic than others, but it was definitely an overall success. We recently received news that those participants have since started up their own small business (small business in Ecuador can be anything from a lemonade stand to a mechanical shop), and are now working rather than continuing their previous practices. This is exciting and we hope to receive more details in the future of their successes. I really admire what the nuns are doing, and think it is a wonderful cause to help these women, who have so much potential, realize that they do have other options and they can have happier and more meaningful lives.
Teaching
Okay, so I'm not really in the mood to write a blog. But, I am here to teach and I haven't written anything about my teaching experiences thus far. And it's a Sunday evening in Guayaquil and I've been meaning to catch up on my blog for awhile, mostly because I also have been slacking on journal writing, which means nothing has been getting written down. In the life of Natausha Bennit, this is always a bad sign. For her, writing is therapeutical, and she is really sad when she realizes that here she is in Ecuador and she's not gonna remember anything about it because she is a struggling writer at the moment.
So here goes my try at catching up. I do at least have journal entries from this first week of teaching so most of this will be copy and paste. This is a pretty long entry but it will give you a good look at what it's like to teach.
We showed up to the building and we explained that I would be teaching the taller de autosuficiencia laboral (career workshop) and Becky would be teaching the taler de autoempleo (self employment workshop) and told them to separate and those who wanted the career workshop to follow me. Nobody moved. Turns out they ALL came for the self-employment workshop. That was a shock and not expected. So we adjusted. We moved to the cultural hall to fit all 75 people. (75 people was a shock in and of itself, past interns have talked about how they were lucky to have 10 people show up for a workshop) I was extremely disappointed that I wasn't going to be able to teach my workshop and had no idea what I was going to do for the next 3 hours because I know nothing about the self-employment workshop. Becky also doesn't know much about the workshop but she has at least read the 120 page teacher's manual. So we got started. I helped where I could, asking questions, organizing activities but I felt like I was just kind of there. Becky appreciated the moral support and the few minutes she had to plan what was coming next while I took over for a few minutes. But honestly, I had problems speaking because I was taken so off guard at having to help with this workshop that I had taken in training in 3 hours when it is meant to be 15 hours. I kept tripping over my words, not being able to pronounce anything, making word-choice mistakes, it was ridiculous. I was so annoyed. I know Spanish better than that.
Congratulations if you read all of this. Apparently I was a lot better at keeping a journal the first couple of weeks here. But the bottom line is that first week of teaching was pretty amazing. I saw true poverty for the first time and am learning a ton about life and people and love.
The following is a picture from our graduation. We only managed to get about 45 people that stuck around for the picture and whatnot, but it's a good one nonetheless.
So here goes my try at catching up. I do at least have journal entries from this first week of teaching so most of this will be copy and paste. This is a pretty long entry but it will give you a good look at what it's like to teach.
We showed up to the building and we explained that I would be teaching the taller de autosuficiencia laboral (career workshop) and Becky would be teaching the taler de autoempleo (self employment workshop) and told them to separate and those who wanted the career workshop to follow me. Nobody moved. Turns out they ALL came for the self-employment workshop. That was a shock and not expected. So we adjusted. We moved to the cultural hall to fit all 75 people. (75 people was a shock in and of itself, past interns have talked about how they were lucky to have 10 people show up for a workshop) I was extremely disappointed that I wasn't going to be able to teach my workshop and had no idea what I was going to do for the next 3 hours because I know nothing about the self-employment workshop. Becky also doesn't know much about the workshop but she has at least read the 120 page teacher's manual. So we got started. I helped where I could, asking questions, organizing activities but I felt like I was just kind of there. Becky appreciated the moral support and the few minutes she had to plan what was coming next while I took over for a few minutes. But honestly, I had problems speaking because I was taken so off guard at having to help with this workshop that I had taken in training in 3 hours when it is meant to be 15 hours. I kept tripping over my words, not being able to pronounce anything, making word-choice mistakes, it was ridiculous. I was so annoyed. I know Spanish better than that.
Congratulations if you read all of this. Apparently I was a lot better at keeping a journal the first couple of weeks here. But the bottom line is that first week of teaching was pretty amazing. I saw true poverty for the first time and am learning a ton about life and people and love.
The following is a picture from our graduation. We only managed to get about 45 people that stuck around for the picture and whatnot, but it's a good one nonetheless.
Monday, October 13, 2008
A Blessing in Disguise
Thursday October 9, 2008
Tonight I had a humbling experience that I would like to share. The details of our dinner experience are important to the story so bear with me.
Tonight we headed out to find a restaurant that we read about in Lonely Planet. It didn't look too far on the map so we started walking. It was 7 p.m. As we walked we discovered it was quite a bit further than we expected and we seemed to be heading into a darker part of town where we just saw lots of groups of men on the streets and passed by a few bars. By this point we had come too far to turn back and we did need to eat dinner so, after ducking into a florist shop so we wouldn't have to walk through a large group of men walking towards us, we finally arrived at our destination. The restaurant was empty and a little more than we wanted to pay. So we explored our options at that intersection, mostly pizza places. We ended up at pizza hut where at least the tip and tax was included in the price, which saved us 22% compared to the first place we went to. So, we ordered our food and sat down. Thirty minutes later they brought us our 2 bottles of water. By this time we were getting annoyed because we had been sitting for 30 minutes. After we had our water for about 15 minutes we still didn't have our appetizer of garlic bread. Becky went down to ask what was going on and they said the bread was just coming out of the oven. They brought it up thereafter. We waited some more, and were still very annoyed at having to pay more than $5 for dinner, and for the water which you can't get for free here since you can't drink tap water.
Finally, 57 minutes after sitting down they brought us our lasagna and pasta. They both came with 2 garlic breads. We started laughing at the ridiculousness of that because we had ordered an appetizer of the exact same kind of bread and were already stressed about spending money. They had failed to tell us our dinner came with the exact bread we had ordered separately.
Now, the reason we were so upset with the situation is not only because we were tired and annoyed at waiting and spending money but, there is a widely known rule around here that the streets are not safe after 9 p.m. The guidebook even says to take a taxi after 9 even if it's only for 2 blocks. Well, we had taken a taxi last night a very short distance to get home and everything had seemed fine so we figured we could walk home if it was right around 9. I was annoyed at waiting for our food because I preferred to walk home without being robbed or raped. With this in mind we went downstairs to pay and I was proud of myself because I told her we had waited an hour for our food and asked if we could get a discount or something. She said "the thing is, there aren't any discounts". I replied with, "okay, but we waited for an hour, and that's a long time". I was calm but stern and without saying anything she rang up our order, and left off the garlic bread. I felt like it was some under the table deal but didn't feel bad, if it was the U.S they would have given us free bread, free drinks, and probably offered us a free dessert.
So, by this time we are just thankful to be done with Pizza Hut and decide it's just barely 9 p.m. and we can probably manage to get home with our money and our virtue intact. We start walking, quickly and with purpose, avoiding looking at anyone and doing our best to be aware of our surroundings. We stuck to the main roads as much as possible but eventually we had to turn down a longish darkish street that was completely deserted in order to get to our hostal. That didn't seem too good but we kept walking anyway, knowing that the grocery store was up the street a ways and that would be our next safe spot. As we walked I focused on the many prayers that I had said for our safety since we arrived in Quito, and kept a silent one going continuously as well. I thought of how good I have been doing with saying my prayers and reading my scriptures and I hoped that this faith and obedience would be sufficient to get us home.
Well we passed a street and I noticed the next block over I saw some running and yelling going on. I mentioned to Becky that it seemed like something was going on down the street but didn't think too much of it. A few minutes later we came upon a taxi, a family was just getting out. The taxi driver spoke to us out the window and told us there were 3 thieves up ahead and they had just assaulted some men with knives. For this reason police were just barely arriving but the attackers hadn't been caught. The assault had just barely happened and the taxi driver advised us not to keep walking straight. We quickly measured the situation and decided a taxi ride didn't sound too bad after all.
So, we drove past a bit of a ruckus as people scrambled around trying to catch the attackers, the taxi driver stopped and told the police which direction they had just gone, and then took us to our hostal. We thanked him for advising us of the danger and paid him a dollar for the ride. We got out of the car and I was overwhelmed by the realization of what had just happened. If we hadn't have been delayed at pizza hut we would have been walking the exact streets where the assault happened, right about the same time. Those men had assaulted other men with knives, I'd hate to imagine what it would have been like for them to come upon 2 young American girls all by themselves. Our delays had us walking by this taxi driver at the exact moment he was letting a car full of people out, he was stopped and was the only person on the road and was able to not only tell us not to keep walking but was able to get us safely out of the situation as well.
I felt bad for being annoyed and slightly angry at the situation in pizza hut. The delay truly was a blessing. I bet that probably didn't look to good up in Heaven, here Heavenly Father is, delaying us and keeping us out of danger and all we were doing is complaining and thinking that we were being put in danger by having to walk home a bit later. Becky brought up the talk by Elder Holland about there being angels all around us whether we know it or not. We might have had angels with us tonight that we couldn't see, but I know for a fact that taxi driver was our angel tonight as well. I'm so amazed at how Heavenly Father watches out for us and answers our prayers.
Tonight I had a humbling experience that I would like to share. The details of our dinner experience are important to the story so bear with me.
Tonight we headed out to find a restaurant that we read about in Lonely Planet. It didn't look too far on the map so we started walking. It was 7 p.m. As we walked we discovered it was quite a bit further than we expected and we seemed to be heading into a darker part of town where we just saw lots of groups of men on the streets and passed by a few bars. By this point we had come too far to turn back and we did need to eat dinner so, after ducking into a florist shop so we wouldn't have to walk through a large group of men walking towards us, we finally arrived at our destination. The restaurant was empty and a little more than we wanted to pay. So we explored our options at that intersection, mostly pizza places. We ended up at pizza hut where at least the tip and tax was included in the price, which saved us 22% compared to the first place we went to. So, we ordered our food and sat down. Thirty minutes later they brought us our 2 bottles of water. By this time we were getting annoyed because we had been sitting for 30 minutes. After we had our water for about 15 minutes we still didn't have our appetizer of garlic bread. Becky went down to ask what was going on and they said the bread was just coming out of the oven. They brought it up thereafter. We waited some more, and were still very annoyed at having to pay more than $5 for dinner, and for the water which you can't get for free here since you can't drink tap water.
Finally, 57 minutes after sitting down they brought us our lasagna and pasta. They both came with 2 garlic breads. We started laughing at the ridiculousness of that because we had ordered an appetizer of the exact same kind of bread and were already stressed about spending money. They had failed to tell us our dinner came with the exact bread we had ordered separately.Now, the reason we were so upset with the situation is not only because we were tired and annoyed at waiting and spending money but, there is a widely known rule around here that the streets are not safe after 9 p.m. The guidebook even says to take a taxi after 9 even if it's only for 2 blocks. Well, we had taken a taxi last night a very short distance to get home and everything had seemed fine so we figured we could walk home if it was right around 9. I was annoyed at waiting for our food because I preferred to walk home without being robbed or raped. With this in mind we went downstairs to pay and I was proud of myself because I told her we had waited an hour for our food and asked if we could get a discount or something. She said "the thing is, there aren't any discounts". I replied with, "okay, but we waited for an hour, and that's a long time". I was calm but stern and without saying anything she rang up our order, and left off the garlic bread. I felt like it was some under the table deal but didn't feel bad, if it was the U.S they would have given us free bread, free drinks, and probably offered us a free dessert.
So, by this time we are just thankful to be done with Pizza Hut and decide it's just barely 9 p.m. and we can probably manage to get home with our money and our virtue intact. We start walking, quickly and with purpose, avoiding looking at anyone and doing our best to be aware of our surroundings. We stuck to the main roads as much as possible but eventually we had to turn down a longish darkish street that was completely deserted in order to get to our hostal. That didn't seem too good but we kept walking anyway, knowing that the grocery store was up the street a ways and that would be our next safe spot. As we walked I focused on the many prayers that I had said for our safety since we arrived in Quito, and kept a silent one going continuously as well. I thought of how good I have been doing with saying my prayers and reading my scriptures and I hoped that this faith and obedience would be sufficient to get us home.
Well we passed a street and I noticed the next block over I saw some running and yelling going on. I mentioned to Becky that it seemed like something was going on down the street but didn't think too much of it. A few minutes later we came upon a taxi, a family was just getting out. The taxi driver spoke to us out the window and told us there were 3 thieves up ahead and they had just assaulted some men with knives. For this reason police were just barely arriving but the attackers hadn't been caught. The assault had just barely happened and the taxi driver advised us not to keep walking straight. We quickly measured the situation and decided a taxi ride didn't sound too bad after all.
So, we drove past a bit of a ruckus as people scrambled around trying to catch the attackers, the taxi driver stopped and told the police which direction they had just gone, and then took us to our hostal. We thanked him for advising us of the danger and paid him a dollar for the ride. We got out of the car and I was overwhelmed by the realization of what had just happened. If we hadn't have been delayed at pizza hut we would have been walking the exact streets where the assault happened, right about the same time. Those men had assaulted other men with knives, I'd hate to imagine what it would have been like for them to come upon 2 young American girls all by themselves. Our delays had us walking by this taxi driver at the exact moment he was letting a car full of people out, he was stopped and was the only person on the road and was able to not only tell us not to keep walking but was able to get us safely out of the situation as well.
I felt bad for being annoyed and slightly angry at the situation in pizza hut. The delay truly was a blessing. I bet that probably didn't look to good up in Heaven, here Heavenly Father is, delaying us and keeping us out of danger and all we were doing is complaining and thinking that we were being put in danger by having to walk home a bit later. Becky brought up the talk by Elder Holland about there being angels all around us whether we know it or not. We might have had angels with us tonight that we couldn't see, but I know for a fact that taxi driver was our angel tonight as well. I'm so amazed at how Heavenly Father watches out for us and answers our prayers.
Andes Mountains
With the workshop canceled for the week Becky and I immediately decided there was a definite need to travel. We would have 6 1/2 days until we had to be back for a workshop. And so, the next morning after I got just under 3 hours of sleep I woke up and finished packing and we didn't get ready fast enough for the 6:45 bus but took the 7:30 a.m. one instead. The bus ride started out going through the bleak countryside that surrounds Guayaquil. But then it turned into miles and miles of banana plantations. We even passed a Dole plantation. I saw some but mostly I slept for the first 2 1/2 hours. Once I had caught up on a little bit of sleep I enjoyed watching out the window. It's one of my favorite things to do in life, watch landscape pass by. I wished that I had control of the bus and could stop it about a hundred times to get a good picture from a good angle that wasn't slightly blurry from motion. But, I made due. The banana plantations turned into groves of what looked like giant pineapples. Since the tree looked like a pineapple we assumed they were pineapple trees. There is a strong possibility that that is bad logic.
Slowly, the various tropical fruit plantations turned into tropical jungle covered hills. Then the tropical jungle covered hills turned into towering sharp jungle covered mountains. The bus wound up and around the mountains for hours, climbing higher and higher. The first time I saw the Andes mountains, half covered by clouds, took my breath away. I had no idea our destination was to go inside the clouds. Slowly the bus took the curves, stopped for construction delays, and bounced through pueblo roads. Higher and higher. I couldn't believe it. The views just kept getting better. But eventually I had to stop taking pictures because we were in the clouds and I couldn't see past the side of the road. I decided to ice my broken finger and so I stuck my hand out the window. It worked rather well. Sometimes I even alternated with heat treatment by sitting on my frozen fingers. Mostly I just iced it though. :)
I thought about the people who built the roads and wondered how many died from falling off the cliffs. Seriously. I thought I was going to die just driving on it. The Andes Mountains are incredible. I've never seen anything so sharp and never seen roads that actually climbed to the top of peaks before entering into the Andean highlands. The Highlands were something else. The greenest rolling hills and plains I've ever seen. Like Park City except 25 times better. And lots of indigenous people in traditional dress. By this time I had taken about 180 pictures of the scenery out the window and now that the roads were less windy
I stopped trying to take pictures and let myself fall back asleep for a little bit.
To my pleasant surprise we never came down from the mountains. Quito lies in a skinny long valley. The city is fantastic. I already like it 10 times more than Guayaquil. But that's another blog entry. Bottom line of this one is that my first experience with the Andes Mountains was the highlight of my stay in Ecuador thus far. Incredible.
Slowly, the various tropical fruit plantations turned into tropical jungle covered hills. Then the tropical jungle covered hills turned into towering sharp jungle covered mountains. The bus wound up and around the mountains for hours, climbing higher and higher. The first time I saw the Andes mountains, half covered by clouds, took my breath away. I had no idea our destination was to go inside the clouds. Slowly the bus took the curves, stopped for construction delays, and bounced through pueblo roads. Higher and higher. I couldn't believe it. The views just kept getting better. But eventually I had to stop taking pictures because we were in the clouds and I couldn't see past the side of the road. I decided to ice my broken finger and so I stuck my hand out the window. It worked rather well. Sometimes I even alternated with heat treatment by sitting on my frozen fingers. Mostly I just iced it though. :)
I thought about the people who built the roads and wondered how many died from falling off the cliffs. Seriously. I thought I was going to die just driving on it. The Andes Mountains are incredible. I've never seen anything so sharp and never seen roads that actually climbed to the top of peaks before entering into the Andean highlands. The Highlands were something else. The greenest rolling hills and plains I've ever seen. Like Park City except 25 times better. And lots of indigenous people in traditional dress. By this time I had taken about 180 pictures of the scenery out the window and now that the roads were less windy
I stopped trying to take pictures and let myself fall back asleep for a little bit.To my pleasant surprise we never came down from the mountains. Quito lies in a skinny long valley. The city is fantastic. I already like it 10 times more than Guayaquil. But that's another blog entry. Bottom line of this one is that my first experience with the Andes Mountains was the highlight of my stay in Ecuador thus far. Incredible.
Fish Market
The Stake Center we went to on Tuesday night was right next door to the big Bahia, or Fish Market. We have heard lots of good things about this market and how you can get 25 crabs for $5 and lots of other great deals. So, since nobody came to the informational meeting, the workshop was canceled for the week and Johnny took us next door for a vital Guayaquil experience.
The market was bustling, cars coming and going constantly and once you walk through the gates you are in a madhouse. A fantastic, entertaining place that makes you smile from all the excitement, but a madhouse nonetheless. And once again when I say you I mean I. So, you walk into the market and your nose is assaulted by the very strong smell of raw, dead fish. The floor has drains throughout the entire market but they can never seem to catch up and so a layer of water covers the cement floor. You are wearing flat white shoes with a white skirt made with lots of swishy material and so you step carefully and hold your skirt in so it doesn't brush against wet buckets of fish or men who are covered in fish guts. Speaking of fish guts, those drains are filled with them, all at different stages of decomposition. Guts, bones, fish heads... some with a steady stream of red bloody water, originating at the chopping blocks. You are much more worried about your white flat shoes after seeing the streams of blood. But, back to the chopping blocks. The chopping blocks are huge surfaces made of tile, I imagine they are extremely unsanitary as they always have fish being chopped on them and as the fish are chopped they are doused with buckets of water to wash off the blood. Behind the chopping blocks are men with big fishing boots up to their knees or higher, with a machete in hand. They are very skilled and slice up the fish faster and more accurately than you've ever seen in your life. Perhaps that's because you've never been to a fish market. Or actually seen someone use a machete. You are entertained. You can't wait to come back with a camera. You know words will never do this place justice. There you see fish that are 4 feet longs and wider around than you are. They also have huge catfish that are about 2 feet long that come from the river. You wander how they eat fish from the river. The river is always brown, with trash floating in it and you can't see past the surface. You silently vow never to eat catfish in Guayaquil. At the same time you vow to come back and buy some fish from the sea. You just saw a man buy an entire bucket of fish for $10. You really like corvina and think it would be a good experience to have to cut the head off yourself and then gut it. For some reason unpleasant things in foreign countries are amusing to you and some of the unpleasant factor is taken away. You also know you have to buy cangrejos (crab). They come in bundles of about 25 and are tied together, still alive. Apparently the only way to buy them is alive. You have to kill them yourself. You don't know about that one. Cutting off the head of an already dead fish is one thing but killing a crab... that's murder. Well okay, not really. But still, you don't like killing things that are larger than a spider. But cangrejos are still a must, after all they're grown in trees around here. Seriously. Once you were driving down the road and Hermano Gomez pointed at some manglares (mangrove) trees and say that those woods are protected because they grow cangrejos. The word in Spanish for grow and raise are the same and so you laugh silently at the thought of growing crabs in trees. In reality, it is a swampy area and the crabs live in the muddy muck. You don't go a day in Guayaquil without someone talking about cangrejos. You think it should be the city's mascot.
Well, anyway that's about all there is to say about the fish market. Pictures and videos will come in the not too distant future. We're going to eat cangrejos at Johnny's house next weekend, it will be my first time to eat crab. I'm excited. We have to learn how to prepare it so we can do it in our house. Bottom line, the fish market was awesome. Ranked right up there with the Iguana Park. Speaking of iguanas, I saw iguana road kill the other day. No joke. I was intrigued. So here in Guayaquil they grow crabs in trees and hit iguanas with cars. Welcome to the strange city in which I live.
The market was bustling, cars coming and going constantly and once you walk through the gates you are in a madhouse. A fantastic, entertaining place that makes you smile from all the excitement, but a madhouse nonetheless. And once again when I say you I mean I. So, you walk into the market and your nose is assaulted by the very strong smell of raw, dead fish. The floor has drains throughout the entire market but they can never seem to catch up and so a layer of water covers the cement floor. You are wearing flat white shoes with a white skirt made with lots of swishy material and so you step carefully and hold your skirt in so it doesn't brush against wet buckets of fish or men who are covered in fish guts. Speaking of fish guts, those drains are filled with them, all at different stages of decomposition. Guts, bones, fish heads... some with a steady stream of red bloody water, originating at the chopping blocks. You are much more worried about your white flat shoes after seeing the streams of blood. But, back to the chopping blocks. The chopping blocks are huge surfaces made of tile, I imagine they are extremely unsanitary as they always have fish being chopped on them and as the fish are chopped they are doused with buckets of water to wash off the blood. Behind the chopping blocks are men with big fishing boots up to their knees or higher, with a machete in hand. They are very skilled and slice up the fish faster and more accurately than you've ever seen in your life. Perhaps that's because you've never been to a fish market. Or actually seen someone use a machete. You are entertained. You can't wait to come back with a camera. You know words will never do this place justice. There you see fish that are 4 feet longs and wider around than you are. They also have huge catfish that are about 2 feet long that come from the river. You wander how they eat fish from the river. The river is always brown, with trash floating in it and you can't see past the surface. You silently vow never to eat catfish in Guayaquil. At the same time you vow to come back and buy some fish from the sea. You just saw a man buy an entire bucket of fish for $10. You really like corvina and think it would be a good experience to have to cut the head off yourself and then gut it. For some reason unpleasant things in foreign countries are amusing to you and some of the unpleasant factor is taken away. You also know you have to buy cangrejos (crab). They come in bundles of about 25 and are tied together, still alive. Apparently the only way to buy them is alive. You have to kill them yourself. You don't know about that one. Cutting off the head of an already dead fish is one thing but killing a crab... that's murder. Well okay, not really. But still, you don't like killing things that are larger than a spider. But cangrejos are still a must, after all they're grown in trees around here. Seriously. Once you were driving down the road and Hermano Gomez pointed at some manglares (mangrove) trees and say that those woods are protected because they grow cangrejos. The word in Spanish for grow and raise are the same and so you laugh silently at the thought of growing crabs in trees. In reality, it is a swampy area and the crabs live in the muddy muck. You don't go a day in Guayaquil without someone talking about cangrejos. You think it should be the city's mascot.
Well, anyway that's about all there is to say about the fish market. Pictures and videos will come in the not too distant future. We're going to eat cangrejos at Johnny's house next weekend, it will be my first time to eat crab. I'm excited. We have to learn how to prepare it so we can do it in our house. Bottom line, the fish market was awesome. Ranked right up there with the Iguana Park. Speaking of iguanas, I saw iguana road kill the other day. No joke. I was intrigued. So here in Guayaquil they grow crabs in trees and hit iguanas with cars. Welcome to the strange city in which I live.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Machismo
Machismo
1. A strong or exaggerated sense of masculinity stressing attributes such as physical courage, virility, domination of women, and aggressiveness.
2. An exaggerated sense of strength or toughness
As a disclaimer for this blog entry, this is a stereotype and while there are many men in Latin America who display this personality trait, it is not true of any of the men that I keep company with here. All of the male members of the Church that I have met have been wonderful people and so have the few non-member guys that I've met. So, I in no way direct this blog towards any male that I know personally in Ecuador.
However, I do direct it at all of the insolent, greasy, and disrespectful men who love to stare and gawk and yell and honk and say crude things to Becky and I each and every day. So, I'm going to vent for a little bit.
I don't enjoy walking around here very much. Everyone honks their horn at us, men are always kissing at us or whistling or saying very dirty things, or just blatantly hanging their head out the window and gawking. I got mad on the way to the center the other day because a man did that, I was disgusted with the way he was looking at us. Like we're a piece of meat. These dirty, greasy men who seem to look at us and only see a potential partner in bed. It makes me sick and wish that I could do something to put them in their place. Something more than just completely ignoring them.
Let me tell you about a typical walk to work. We leave our apartment and if we are lucky there aren't any men on our street, but this is a rare treat. Usually there are men in cars and they honk or stare. So we walk to the end of the street and turn the corner. We usually don't have any trouble in the 30 seconds it takes to get to the main road from there. So then we have to cross an intersection and besides more men in cars honking and staring there is a gross old man across the street who is usually waxing a car or something. We have to walk right by him and he unfailingly says many crude things to us, I usually try to tune him out and definitely don't make eye contact but yesterday the word "preciosa" or "precious" stood out from his rambling at our retreating backs. Sometimes I get really mad at this man because the things he says are really out of hand, and he's a rather persistent little bugger. But yesterday I happened to glance at him for once and saw that he is anywhere from 50-60 years old and has about 3 teeth to his name. So, my first instinct was anger and disgust as the taunting word "preciosa" hung in the air but then I found it a little funny. He only has 3 teeth. And has at least 30 years on us. It was so gross and disturbing that I actually laughed a little at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.
So anyway, next we cross through a gas station and try not to get killed as all of the cars cut through to beat the red light. Now we are really on the main road and are stuck on it for the next 20-25 minutes as we walk to work. We are subject to an almost continuous honking from the cars that pass by, a mixture of taxi drivers signaling their willingness to pull over and give us a ride, men who honk to signal the same thing but are not taxi drivers, and then there are the men in cars who honk with the sole purpose of expressing their appreciation of our presence on the streets of Guayaquil. With each honk my annoyance grows and I hope to never hear another honk again in my life. Along with the honks the men like to hang their head out the window and literally gawk at us for 10 seconds as they pass by. Others like to yell things and say "hola guapa" or "hola bonita" which are both literally translated as "hello beautiful/pretty" but when said in this manner are disrespectful and unnecessary. But wait, there's more. There's still all the men we walk by on the streets. More stares. More comments. More anger steaming from me. More desires to throw rocks at windshields and maybe at a few heads too. Nevermind, forget the heads, on these men I would throw it wear it counts. So, we walk along the road and come to my favorite part. And when I say favorite I mean it in the "passionately hated" sense of the word. A construction site. Here the sidewalk ends, and not only do we have to endure the cat calls, stares, and whistles from the construction workers , but we are forced onto the street and just pray that we don't get hit by a car, as the impatient cars weave in and out of each other, everyone trying to beat everyone else in the race to the red light up ahead.
Well anyway, you get the idea. Welcome to walking the streets of Guayaquil. A place where countless men evoke the most negative opinions of people that I've ever had in my life. I hate it. I hate being looked at that way. It's violating. It's even more annoying because we never encourage it and are always dressed modestly. I can not even express the disgust I feel, which is sad because I really like going on walks, but not here. Curse men who look at women and fail to recognize that they are daughters of God who have personalities, knowledge, talents, needs, and values. We deserve better. I deserve better.
Overcoming Language Barriers One Kiss at a Time
So every single person here always asks Becky and I if we have boyfriends. When we say no they get a very shocked look on their face and exclaim "why not?!". I'm not sure what the correct answer to that question is... so let's put it up for discussion. What are some good responses? Feel free to let your creative energies flow and give me something good to work with here. :)
So after we give some awkward lame excuse to explain away our singleness, without fail our inquisitors helpfully say that they know lots and lots of good Ecuadorian boys who would be perfect for us. Hermano Gomez, who drives us to and from our teaching assignments each day suggested his son. An hermana at the workshop last week told me she could e-mail me with lots of options of boys in her area. These are just 2 examples of the many offers we have received. It's quite out of hand. It's strange, it seems to be socially unacceptable for young eligible girls to be single. Honestly.
So Tuesday night we had an informational meeting with the leaders of the stake to explain the workshops. Before the meeting began we were talking with the stake president who asked us the much expected question about our relationship status. After we said no, he told us a couple of stories about American girls who had come to Ecuador in the past and ended up marrying Ecuadorian boys. He starts talking about how it's sometimes hard though, because of cultural differences. We agree and say that the whole language barrier thing can be hard to get through. He shakes his head and says "no, I'm talking more about culture. Different ways of doing things. You don't need language to kiss. You don't need language to eat". We nod and smile and hold our comments for later discussion. The following picture is us with the stake president:
At home Becky and I had a good laugh about that conversation. The thing is, he was completely serious when he said that. We decided we agree whole heartedly. Maybe he's right, you don't need language to kiss after all. Yeah, communication... relationships... definitely don't go together. Food and affection, that's what it's all about.
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