Making a house a home: Part 1

So, you may be aware that mi madre has this awesome knack for interior decorating. My parents are currently building a house by Linds and her family, and I am enjoying hearing about all of the details and decisions they are making as the construction has been underway for a couple of months now. My mom has played a large role in the decor in my Minneapolis condo; I have appreciated her input a lot. When I made the decision to teach abroad, though, I decided that part of my evolution as an adult needed to include the ability to create a home on my own. I was tempted to do the roommate thing here as some of the perks, like crazy cheap rent and company in times of real loneliness, were tempting in the face of such a big change, but ultimately I stuck to my guns on the challenge of fixing up a place on my own. Some of my friends here have these amazing Ecuadorian flats that just feel, well, like Ecuador. My apartment, as it is new construction, isn't necessarily very South American feeling, but the stark white walls presented an opportunity for me to reinvent a space. This past Monday I, along with one of my new local friends, Francisco, went on an excursion to a paint store, Sherwin Williams, actually. I intended to take care of business on my own, but Francisco insisted on meeting up and going along. I was quite fortunate to have him with because, while my Spanish is improving, discussing types of brushes, paint primers, and level of gloss isn't currently in my vocabulary. 

Having purchased the paint, I was anxious to get started on Operation House 2 Home. After reading until 2:30 am Saturday morning, I still woke up at 7:30 am--it is nearly impossible for me to sleep in here--quite excited to get started on my project. After hitting up the gym to pump some iron and my weekly trip to Iñaquito, the market that is walking distance from my house, I donned the closet thing to painting clothes I have here: Lululemon cropped pants and a t-shirt.

I finished priming and one coat of paint before it was time to get ready for a friend's 30th birthday party. A lot of good food and some salsa dancing somehow made for a terrible night of getting stomach sick. My mom used to tell stories about how I was a projectile vomiter as a little baby. Mom, it wasn't just about being a baby. Some things never change. TMI. I know. Sorry 'bout it. Today I was supposed to go on an excursion to el mitad del mundo, otherwise known as the equator. I got up, showered, and walked to meet the other teachers who had signed up for the adventure. While waiting for everyone to arrive, I decided I couldn't chance the bus ride and an afternoon of walking, so I made my way back home. El mitad del mundo another time.

This picture is out of order, but I am having a tiff with the blog right now. This is me doing the edging, which is usually what Dad does. 

The BRAT Diet served me well, and I got myself to put the second coat of paint on the bedroom. I still need to frame 3 great paintings I bought from an artist in Otavalo to hang on the wall, but take a look at the following pictures to see the room remodel.

Even the great natural light I get doesn't make me room sunny with such sterile walls. 

This does feel a little like an asylum to me.

One coat down, one to go. 

So much warmer. I love it.

As always, I miss you all. I hope you are enjoying the otoño. Nos hablamos pronto.

Jame

Summiting a Volcano

I was in my pajamas by about 7:30 on Friday night. I had that weird feeling in my throat that indicates you are about to get a cold. This felt especially ominous as I had to get up at 4:20 am on Saturday morning as Gustavo and Paypahuasi Tours were kind enough to be swinging by my house to pick me up on the way to the meeting grounds for the Pichincha climbing expedition. I tossed and turned all night, but having a new adventure on the horizon was enough to keep me feeling spry when my alarm clock went off.

By 5 am I was riding in the Paypahuasi bus, on the way to the meeting grounds where there would be a total of 28 people gathering to take on Pichincha and its 4 cumbres. By 6:15 am the sun had risen and the 2 buses were bouncing their way out of the city. I was seated next to a nice Ecuadorian man named Pierre, who was patiently speaking with me in Spanish...and then English when I got too confused. At one point he explained to me that Pichincha is a very unpredictable, active volcano. There is no warning when an eruption is coming, the last having been in 2004. Since I have a terrible sense of direction, there was no real way for me to get out of the bus and arrive back home safely at this point. What are the odds anyway, I reassure myself. (If you know anything about anxious people, such as myself, discussing odds and generally being rational does not always quell fears.)

The landscape outside of Quito turns out to be quite beautiful. I especially enjoyed the friendly cows who were grazing at the starting point of our climb. Even the cows are super tranquilo here. (It seems that they are naturally kind of laid back creatures, but, California, I think these cows are just happier.) I worked to hone some of that energy before we began our ascent.

I was pleasantly surprised as the altitude did not affect me and my muscles felt strong. The pleasant feeling escaped me, though, as we got closer to our first summit. That whole fear of heights thing grabbed hold of me, and I had to have a little "Come to Jesus" chat with myself to find the courage to scuttle to the very top. Facing fears here. The view at the top was quite the prize for doing so. We happened to have one of the clearest days. Ever. Check out the pictures, and you will see.

As I am taking in the view from the top of the first cumbre, it does dawn on me that we have 3 more to go. Uffff da, says the Minnesota girl. As we are descending to the spot where will break for some food, I cannot decide which is harder, going up or down the volcano. When we are climbing up, I am wishing we are going down, but now that my toes are slamming into the front of my hiking boots, and my knees are screaming at me, it seems that ascending would be better. Yay, yay, the grass is always greener, Jame, I say shaking my head at myself.

So, food is always a great inspiration to me, and after chowing down my peanut butter and honey sanduche and banana, I feel replenished. And so the 2nd ascent begins. To summarize, the 2nd and 3rd summits were pretty tough. I was reminded why mountains are so often used in metaphors about life. Looking back could scare the wits out of me because it appeared to be a steep fall if I lost my balance, and looking up was incredibly daunting. One of the best parts of the experience was probably the fact that it forced complete presence. In fact, my life depended on my focus on the present moment.

As we were nearing the top of the last summit, I had a flashback to a camping trip with my dad, one of my best college friends, Jenn, and one of my best high school friends, Jake. We were climbing up the mountain, and as it was close to the peak, we were climbing in mostly shale. Shale that was slipping out from under my boots and making me feel panicky and unsteady. Perhaps a bit dramatically, I began thinking of all of the people I hadn't said goodbye to were I to parish on this mountain. And then I felt angry. My poor dad bore the brunt of the anger and panic. Obviously it was his fault I felt insecure and scared, right? Well, as we are making the final ascent, I am having to rock climb more than I ever have before. Did I mention my fear of rock climbing? A similar "I didn't sign up for this" irritation arises in me as it did that summer in Montana. I have no choice but to swing my short little legs up onto the next rock and keep trucking, though. I keep working on living for every moment in life, but it is true that some are more rewarding and enjoyable than others. When I finally stepped onto the very peak of that last summit, that was a cool feeling. And it is actually now, that I am looking back at the photos, that I can most appreciate the hard work of the whole climb. So much so that I am thinking I will be signing up for more in a week or two. (Mmmmm, maybe two.)

After climbing a great hill, one only finds that there are many more hills to climb. ~Nelson Mandela

My cama is definitely calling my name now. Suenos dulches a todos. (I have got to figure out how to access my Spanish keyboard on here.) 

Amor,

Jame

Colegio Americano and Thomas Jefferson High School

Buenas tardes a todos,

I have been reflecting on the similarities and differences between Jefferson and Colegio Americano in the last weeks. In the following comparison, I am not intending to present one as better than another. Both schools, as any, have their "strengths" and "next steps" (as I like to point out in my students' writing). 

Similarities:                                       

Teachers make SMART goals

...

I am actually kind of coming up blank here, 

unless I am going to be obvious and name things like

both schools have a library...

Differences: 

Drills

Americano: volcano eruption and earthquake drills

Jefferson: tornado and fire drills

Security

Americano: a number of armed guards circle the perimeter of the campus all day, teachers use a machine that scans their fingerprint to check in and out

Jefferson: 4 (I believe) hall monitors peruse the halls while class is in session, a teacher or volunteer signs in guests at front door

Class size

Americano: 12-15 students in English classes (surprisingly it doesn't feel that small because this is an incredibly social culture)

Jefferson: 30-35 students in English classes

Campus

Americano: outdoor campus which includes pre-K through 12th grade, a closed campus that I am not sure how a student could escape from

Jefferson: indoor (definitely indoor) campus which includes 9th-12th grade, a closed campus that students can find their way out of

School lunch

*After careful thought, I cannot comment here because it would appear I was trying to make one school look better than another

Schedule

Americano: eight 45 minute class periods each day, a rotating 6 day cycle, Two 25-minute recesses (which is when high school students also must eat lunch)--I still actually do not know my schedule; I have it posted behind my desk

Jefferson: a modified block schedule--Monday, Tuesday, Friday: six 54 minute periods; Wednesday, Thursday: three 90 minute periods

Transportation

Americano: most teachers ride the bus; all kids ride the bus; Morning: buses (there are many) round up teachers and students around the city and bring them to Carcelen, where the school is located, which takes about 40 minutes from my stop and gets us to school 15 minutes before class begins; Afternoon: most teachers leave on teacher bus at 3:30, which means I am home around 4:30; students leave at 3:00 (there is another bus at 4 and 6, but I am a firm believer in my work-life balance)

Jefferson: Teachers drive (and carpool), arriving by 7:15, 35 minutes before class begins; students take the bus, drive, and carpool

Meetings

Americano: Mondays after school=grade level meetings (admin. usually discusses something at these, such as reading off the names of students who struggle for different reasons; no paperwork given, just take notes); Wednesdays after school=department meetings; other various meetings come up throughout the week to discuss drills, insurance, or the Ministry of Education's latest requirements

Jefferson: Once a month staff meetings (sometimes canceled); PLC meetings after school on Wednesdays; IEP meetings at various times throughout the year

I could go on a bit more, but I need to get to spinning class, especially important tonight because I have signed up to climb Pinchincha with Paypahuasi, a company started by Jenny and Esteban Rivera's friend Gustavo. I hope I can make it to the top for a spectacular view!

                                                  

I will leave you with a couple of pictures from Americano...

One of the courtyards at Americano

View right outside of my door, turning to the right

View outside of my classroom windows

Americano is awesome, but shout out to my peeps at Jefferson. I miss you abundantly. 

Ven conmigo a Otavalo

Before I whisk you off to Otavalo, I have to mention the smell of cooking vegetables in my apartment. To me, it smells like autumn in Minnesota with the carrots, onions, garlic, fennel, tomato paste, and celery simmering on the stove for homemade stock. (It seems stocks do not exist here, but bullion cubes do. My Omnivore's Dilemma reading and Forks Over Knives viewing self just can't fathom all that MSG and salt in my food.) So, the apartment feels a little cozier this evening with the hint of home in the air.

Okay, let's hop in the car and head north, now, to that amazing market in the quintessential Ecuadorian town of Otavalo. Buckle up. And I mean it. The two lane highways here will give your stomachs a run for their money.

As we drive, or as Ana drives because, in my opinion, there is no way any of us North Americans should be in the driver's seat here, notice the drop off to the right side of the road. If you look to the left, you'll be looking straight up at mountainous rock. Straight ahead their is a pokey tour bus. We're in line to pass that bus, and luckily we trust Ana to do so only after looking to make sure that there is no one coming at us head on. White crosses appear on the side of the road frequently to mark fatal accidents. Mom, I know this is a little nerve-wracking, but you don't have to white knuckle it so much. Ana really is being quite careful. 

After 2.5 hours of driving, we've now pulled into Otavalo. 

Quaint characteristics such as the stain-glassed street lights add beauty to the town. People are milling about, keeping the tranquilo pace of South America as aromas of roasting plantains swirl through the air. After we park in a little dirt lot off of the street, we meander over to a friendly enough looking man to see which direction to the artesenias. After a couple of blocks of walking south? north? east? maybe west, directions never have been my strong suit (did you bring your compass?), the view becomes tantalizing. Homemade arts and crafts and more are everywhere. 

Is your heart beat increasing just a bit with the excitement of making some great Christmas present purchases? If so, we are so on the same page. As we mill about, we realize that it might be a tough balance to strike between thinking of Christmas, and thinking of ourselves. It is chillier in Quito than we'd expected, and how sweet to have a new sweater made in Otavalo? And there are those very white walls to spruce up back at the apartment. Probably one stop at the cash machine wouldn't hurt the bank too much, especially since Ana agrees that she won't let us go back for a second withdrawal. While we can usually uphold a conservative reign on our cash, thanks to money manager Padre, it seems the Baci-woman shopper is on the loose. 

Dang, shopping makes us hungry, doesn't it? The artist whose paintings we've just purchased has pointed us towards a good place for almuerzo. An appetizer of avocado and shrimp, followed by cream of mushroom soup, and then a plate of beef with sides of Ecuadorian potato cakes and various types of corn (that we did share with Ana so as not to induce a food coma) boosts our energy for more bargain hunting...or bargain bartering...

Happy sigh. We found some great stuff for the house, our own wardrobes, and that family at home that we miss so much. We load the car down with all of our bags and then head a bit further north to Ibarra, where one of Ana's brothers, Junior, lives. We are picking up Pancho, another brother, at Junior's because Pancho is taking a puppy from Junior's back to Quito. While we wait for Pancho to arrive, it's about time for a snack. Frozen yogurt. Que delicioso! 

We pick up some treats from the vendors on the corners too. Never mind that we've eaten more sugar in the past two weeks than we did the entire summer. (But good thing we joined the gym last week and spinning awaits us on Monday evening.) After wolfing down the frozen yogurt, and watching Ana slowly savor hers, damos un paseo around the different squares of Ibarra. There are some beautiful sites. 

Beauty is sometimes dualistic as most squares have majestic statues...that were built by the Christian Spaniards to keep the pagan Incas from doing ritual dances. Nearly every square, surrounded by flowers and filled with trees, also includes a church on one end, and a statue in the center. 

Ana's phone rings, and it's Poncho saying that he is at Junior's house. A five minute drive lands us at Junior's where we meet more of Ana's sobrinos. They are all deliciously adorable. 

As is this puppy that will be our sweet companion on the way home (when it is dark, and the two-lane highways have no lights). 

This is puppy's ayudame pose, and help him we do with lots of love and pets. Gus, Mama misses your spunky self to the moon and back. (Now stop peeing in Taira's food dish and eating muffins off of the counter!) 

Arriving back in Quito, I am exhausted, but I am also determined to find my second wind so that I can grab a drink with some friends and hit up the Salsa club! 

So glad we got to take a day trip together. Where do you want to go next?

Hot Chocolate with Melty Cheese

I don´t want you to stop reading the blog for fear of catching depression, or to feel too bad for me, so a short note on last evening...

A walk around Parque Carolina with Michelle and Amanda, and a stop at a Dutch cafe, Jurgen, raised my spirits considerably. I have been craving lots of hot chocolate since arriving in Quito (most of the day is cooler than I anticipated), and while Juan Valdez--the Starbuck´s of Quito--has good stuff, Jurgen´s chocolate de la casa made me nearly giddy. Their rich hot chocolate comes with a piece of good cheese on top that is all ooey gooey from the steam of the chocolate. This will definitely be one of my hot spots, and if you come to visit, it is likely you will come to know the magic of this drink as well.

In other news, the NetLife guy called Ana yesterday to say he would be at my place at 4:30 today to install the internet. I´m not holding my breath, but I can´t help but be hopeful.

Stay tuned (kind of like you did when getting my visa was the adventura del verano).

Nos hablamos,

Jame

Growing Pains

At the end of this Tuesday, I am trying to think of something inspiring, something to give myself a little life. I remember a quote from Plato: The unexamined life is not worth living. I am feeling better for a moment here as I think yeah, examining, that is what I am doing hundreds of miles from home. Examining. My life, my whole being, will be richer for having examined the world from a new perspective. Then I come across some thoughts from Kurt Vonnegut: Plato says that the unexamined life is not worth living. But what if the examined life turns out to be a clunker as well? And, dude, this is how I am feeling. Life is kinda clunky right now. The first week that I was in Quito I was altogether feeling grounded and pulled together. As I listened to a presentation from one of the administrators about the stages of acquisition, I thought maybe I am an exception. I´m feeling so good. Then came the b*·"& slap from the Universe: Welcome to reality. It´s hard. I´ve been through tough stuff before, in a first world, white girl kind of way. I believe that some semblance of happiness, of achievement, of life feeling so amazing is in the future somewhere, it just happens to elude me right now. I know it´s not all bad to feel this way. Life isn´t about always feeling good. And at least I feel this way based on a choice that I made. At least some of my discontent comes from expectations that I have of myself and my world. Whether I am in Minneapolis or Quito, I realize that life demands consistent expectation revision.

Examples:
Expectation: That I would have internet by now.
Revision: You will get internet when NetLife shows up, and then you will be elated to have easier access to friends and family back home.

Expectation: I would know my students names by now because, heck, I only have 12-15 in a class.
Revision: You have dozens of new Spanish words floating around in your mind, along with hundreds of details that are helping you survive a new life. If it takes an extra week to learn names, so be it.

Expectation: I would have a couple of favorite spots at which to sip my tea or dig into some Ecuadorian food.
Revision: While you haven´t found favorite spots, you have started to form routines, which will make you feel more at home.

And the list goes on.

I am reminded again that I can be an impatient person. With myself. With others. It seems I did indeed pack all of the parts of myself in my suitcase, including the parts that are prone to some anxiety, tension, and moodiness. So, hey, who wants to be my new friend?! I´m looking forward to the day that I can genuinely coax out the bubbly, fun-loving, high on life sides. I believe they do still exixt. I do believe, I do believe...

This afternoon I have a walk and tea time planned with Amanda, one of the new hires from the States. Maybe we´ll find a gem of a coffee shop, or at least laugh about some of the first year follies so far.

Que tengan una buena noche a todos,

Jame

Oh my, misadventures

Let me preface this by saying that I am currently snuggled into the couch at Ana's cozy house, so my day took a turn for the better after a number of frustrating situations.

My first week at school has been altogether really positive. Lots of new systems to learn, and a classroom to make feel more like "home," but I am enjoying my students and small class sizes for sure.

So on Fridays the teachers are able to leave at 2:45 (rather than 3:30) with the students, which means that I take a different bus home. Today was the first day that I was figuring out my Friday route. I asked another (international) teacher how to figure out my bus. He pointed to a list of routes and bus numbers; I checked the list and proceeded to confidently board bus #2 (of like 40). I didn't recognize the neighborhoods, but I was feeling all tranquila and wasn't concerned as we drove...until the bus was dropping off the last teacher, looking at me inquiring where I thought I was planning to unload myself. Slight panic started to creep in. Ummm, Amazonas, I say. No no no no says the bus driver. He does not go to Avenida de Amazonas, nor will he make an exception this one time for the Gringita who has made a mistake. The teacher who has just gotten off of the bus is looking at me inquiringly. Maybe you can get on a bus, or take a taxi, she suggests. It so happens that today I had no money or credit card with me. I am penniless. I explain this to her a couple of times when my situation finally sinks in with her. I run through my options: I could call Ana, I could walk from here (though I have no idea where I am), I could get in a taxi and then tell the driver that I have to go into my apartment to get money when he drops me off. As I am working on a solution, Maestra Jenny explains that she is taking a taxi to her boyfriend's house, so I can get in the cab with her and she will give me fare to get to my apartment. Seriously, thank God for the Quitenas amables! So, there is a silver lining in my first misadventure: I may have made a new Ecuadorian friend, or at least I found someone willing to make sure I arrived to my home safely; Jenny called a bit later to make sure I hadn't encountered any trouble after the driver dropped her off.

After running myself (slowly as the altitude is still kicking me) around Parque Carolina, I decide to head over to NetLife to sternly inquire about my lack of internet. After doing my best in Spanish, I end up calling Ana to speak with the woman who is "helping" me. It has now been 13 days since I paid for the installation, and each day I keep getting manana, manana. In South America, there is always tomorrow, but I am ready to tell the next person who says this that there will be no tomorrow for him if he doesn't give this little rubia what she wants: INTERNET! Ahorrita! Well, I really get nowhere with this woman. She hangs up with Ana and tells me she needs me to espera mas. Someone is supposed to be in contact with me Monday or Tuesday. Dude, deep breath I say. I leave NetLife frustrated but still taking the day in stride. When I go to call Ana back and fill her in on the latest shananigans, I find that my phone is out of minutes. Alright, no big deal, I'll just walk the two blocks to El Jardin, the mall, and put add more minutes; I need to get cash from Produbanco anyway. So I scoot my way over to Jardin. When I walk in I find that the little tea store that is usually closed is in fact open today. Yes! I could totally go for some quality, loose leaf te. I order up a sample of a tea to then find that they only take cash. Okay, cool, I was on my way to Produbanco so I'll be back in diez minutos I tell the very kind people working.

When I arrive at the ATMs an ominous feeling arises. People keep walking away frustrated. When my turn comes, I put my card in, enter my PIN # and go through the motions to withdraw some cash. Nope, the system is down. The afternoon is feeling rather inconvenient by this point, but I don't need the tea. I do, though, need to put more minutes on my cell. I make my way up the escalator to Supermaxi, the grocery store. I grab a bottle of water and approach the woman at the checkout, explaining that I'd like to add $20 to my phone. No problem she responds. Except it seems there is a problem. When I hand her my Produbanco debit card, she asks for my ID. No, I don't have my ID with me right now, but I can give you my passport number I explain. Nope, she needs a tangible form of identification. I have used my card here numerous cards with no such request, but the stars are not lined up for me today. I haughtily walk away from the checkout, letting out a disgruntled ARGH. I am over Quito at this point. And it is clearly over me.

When I'm almost back to my apartment, Ana calls, and boy does she get an earful. She reminds me that I'm okay and to take a deep breath. I'll pick you up in an hour she assures me. We can stop at the bank and grocery store on the way to my place she adds. I screw me head back on straight after some deep breaths and remind myself that these are minor disruptions in the big scheme of things.

Ana, being more dependable than the city has been to me today, does pick me up when she says. We end up eating at the mall (an HSP is always more level-headed when her blood sugar is balanced), downing some awesome hot chocolate from Juan Valdez, and making our way back to Ana's flat (oh yes, only after I manage to break the ceramic water dispenser she has just bought). A glass of wine and a lengthy Skype session with the whole fam later, I am up for embracing my new life, and all of the lessons it offers, once again.

So, I'm going to sip some more agua con gas and call it a night.

Nos hablamos pronto.

Jame

My Transcendental Life

I still don´t have internet. It´s been a comedy of errors, or something like that. While I have appreciated the amount of reflection and quiet time I have had after work each day, I´d really like to feel connected again to my peeps back home. Ana went with me yesterday to visit NetLife and try to figure out what the hold up has been; she knows how to lay down the lay, man. So, the current story is tomorrow will be the day. We´ll see.

Second day with students today. The schedule here is really different than at Jefferson, so it will take some adjusting, but I think the two 25-minute recesses are pretty awesome.

I´ve got to finish prepping. Anticipate a novel when I finally have wifi en mi casa...