Time flies

I know I haven´t been very good at keeping up with this, and I´m afraid it´s not going to get any better as my program is only three weeks longer and most of it will be taken up with writing my monografia, a 20-page paper about my experiences here in Cotacachi, particularly my work with women´s participation. Needless to say, this paper is in español.

But a quick recap of the past few weeks. I was finally given something to do (almost too much) my second week of work for the leather fair. The task of honor? Gluing and laminating makeshift IDs for all of the leather vendors. That particular Tuesday, I was sent on a wild goose chase for carnets (as the IDs are called, but I didn´t know that at the time) by Jomar to Hugo in the computer lab, Sandi downstairs, Verónica upstairs, and finally Paulina downstairs again. Paulina, I realized, despite her impeccable Spanish and dark features, was the French intern I´d heard about. As we waited for Señora Carmelina, we played the name, rank and serial number game since I had stopped feeling awkward about introducing myself to people and asking them if they needed help. Paulina explained that she is here for six months doing an internship and eventually writing a thesis for her master´s degree (in some kind of social science, I forget). She works under Señora Carmelina, a 30-something indigenous woman who runs most of the women´s activities.

After this out, as well as seeing a Bertolt Brecht poem called "The Political Illiterate" above her desk, that Señora Carmelina was the person I would know be reporting to every day. She´s a very sharp, nice woman who is just my kind of feminist. After we finished the morning, Paulina invited me to her apartment for lunch. "Do you like pesto?" she asked me as she started making pasta. I had to ask her to repeat herself out of pure shock, as I´d grown accustomed to only expecting rice, potatoes and chicken for any meal. "Of course!" I replied. "Anything but rice." "Hmm?" she asked as she casually tossed the ingredients into a pot. "Um, they eat a lot of rice here. You hadn´t noticed?"

I should mention that we had these conversations entirely in Spanish. Paulina speaks English and even spent a semester at the University of Colorado, but after having worked at an NGO in Spain for a little while, her Spanish is clearly better - and of course I don´t speak any French. "No, now we are talking in English," she said, trying to practice. "So, you are studying, eh, political sciences, yes?" When I tried to respond, I burst out laughing - I was thinking in Spanish and probably hadn´t spoken English in a few days, and just couldn´t switch when I knew we were both perfectly able to finish the conversation in Spanish. When her Italian roommate came home, I felt so in awe of the three of us - three extranjeras from different corners of the globe, all speaking Spanish in this messy little kitchen in Ecuador.

So, aside from the leather fair, work has consisted of attending women´s workshops both here and throughout the county and compiling data from old ones. I´ve also had to meet with my monografia tutor and do a fair about of textual research on citizen participation issues - about which Cotacachi is considered to be an ideal case study. I have a fair amount of stories to share on that, but I´ll wait until I´ve finished the paper so I can see what´s the most interesting.

My family is still very nice but more traditional than I´m used to. Ideally, I think they´d like it if I were home with them all the time rather than studying or spending time with the one close friend I have nearby. I am expected to eat every bite offered to me - we´re talking the equivalent of three-course meals sometimes! For Holy Week, I went to several processions where each community dresses up a Jesus or Mary and carries it around for a few hours, as well as an Easter vigil Mass with baptisms of children old enough to walk and talk. I was also convinced (that´s putting it mildly) to dress in the traditional indigenous clothing, of which there are pictures I will post soon, don´t worry. I won´t go into detail about the gang of mean dogs (perros bien bravos, as my sisters would say) that often barks and tries to bite me, but suffice it to say I try to wear long pants as often as possible and carry a threatening-looking umbrella when I don´t. I do like the country, it´s a good change for me to share my half-hour walk to town with cows and get woken up by roosters. And my family is ultimately very nice and caring, and I think they´ve adjusted to me as I have to them. Not to mention it´s beautiful here.

The other big news is that President Rafael Correa spoke here unexpectedly a few weeks back. The man, for all that I have some problems with him politically, is a compelling public speaker - he even speaks Kichwa. It was fascinating to watch his charm work on the crowds, who overwhelmingly supported his constituent assembly proposal in the national referendum a few days later. Not to mention he´s incredibly good-looking - all the women in my family, including my littlest sister, couldn´t stop giggling about him when we all rehashed our reactions at dinner that night. While he may be fighting for some noble things, there´s no doubt the man´s a populist and a radical. I hope the things people support him for actually end up happening. Ecuador is definitely an interesting political case study.

It´s back to Quito for me next Tuesday and judging my my reaction to Grace´s and my short day trip there last Friday, I think it will be a relief for me to be back in the city. I think I am just someone who needs plenty of company, and relying on only Grace for familiarity has been hard.
Last week was particularly difficult because of all the news from home. It´s so hard to be away when tragedy hits, but it´s good to know the communities I love are rallying. I´d love to know how you all are doing, so don´t hesitate to let me know.

Here are some more photos I´ve posted, as it´s a little too complicated to embed them from here:

http://grinnell.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2008822&l=6ccfb&id=22500005

http://grinnell.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2008805&l=b29fa&id=22500005

http://grinnell.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2008696&l=b5563&id=22500005

What I should have written about two months ago (and I hope to do more of these):
2/15 - 2/19: Carnaval: Becka and I left first because everyone else (Allie, Grace, Nora Shields, and Phoebe) had their internship interviews that Friday. The bus ride was about eight hours to the coastal town of San Vicente, a “suburb” shall we say, of the city of Bahia and the beach town of Canoa. We ended up having to stay there because Carnaval, think Mardi Gras times five and for the same Catholic-origin tradition, is the one weekend you need to make reservations to travel in Ecuador and everyone heads for the beach.

After a few adventures of trying to find our hotel, mainly the consonant-free costeño accent getting in our way of understanding anyone whom we asked directions, we settled in to our luxurious $8/night accommodations and changed into cooler clothes. Quito, being in the mountains, has fairly warm, springlike weather, but the coast is swelteringly hot. Becka and I caught a taxi to go to Canoa for dinner, since, as far as we were concerned, San Vicente didn’t exactly offer the dining options we were looking for to start our vacation.

Another observation we made about the coast is the completely relaxed atmosphere. The place we had a few beers while waiting for a taxi was staffed by a mother and daughters painting their nails. Had we not walked in, at which point they were more than happy to attend to us, they would have continued to do so. The barber shop across the street we faced similarly had plastic chairs set up on the sidewalk for the employees to

Well, eventually various forms of food poisoning, extreme sunburn, and the first culture shock at least I’d really experienced all got in the way of a successful Carnaval for most of us. Canoa/San Vicente/Bahia reminded me a lot of the Dominican Republic, an Afro-descendent population with a similar accent, completely underdeveloped (yes, by western standards) rural areas, unbearable heat, unstable electricity (Becka and I did some bonding over a power outage our first night in Canoa) and a lack of healthy food options – I am not a seafood person and got sick from cheese we bought at the local market the one day we spent at the beach. However, we all still got in some beach time, pool time and some good conversation, not to mention plenty of water gun squirts, a Carnaval tradition. My favorite parts of the weekend were probably times we took little ferries across the bay to the aptly named city of Bahia for meals consisting of fried plantains, rice and the best sangria I’ve ever had.