Random Homegoing Thoughts

I leave Cuenca tomorrow.

It seems like forever and no time at all since I arrived. And now I'm going to Peru. I'll be home in less than 10 days.

It's so strange.

I've learned so much here: about myself, about the culture, about all the things I don't know. I've learned that people really do love me for who I am, and not because I've got everything together or can do anything for them. (That's a nice feeling!)

Remember how I was so scared to come to Ecuador? Well, now I'm scared to leave. Ecuador has become my comfort zone. I know when I get back that no one will be able to relate to my experience, and it just won't be as important to them as it is to me. And there will be a "choque," a disconnect.

I'll leave CEDEI behind forever. I'll leave behind my host family. I'll leave Cuenca behind, this picturesque city nestled in the heart of the mountains.

I'll bring back memories and mementos. I'll bring back a stronger knowledge of Spanish, and of the Ecuadorian culture. I'll bring back a hint of the Cuencano "singing" accent.

I guess it's just so surreal that I'm actually going home. Home. There isn't a word in Spanish for home. The closest word is hogar, but even that is exchangeable with "house." But I'm going home.

Home!

One Month

According to the calendar, I have been in Ecuador for 4 weeks. (That first Saturday didn't count for me, since I showed up in Quito at 11 PM.) I've learned and experienced so much in this extremely long and extremely short month that I doubt I can put it all into one blog post. Nevertheless, I shall try.

I've learned that weather is unpredictable. There is no snow in Ecuador, but rain, hail, sunshine, clouds, wind, heat, cold, and drizzle can all happen within a few hours. Clouds do not always mean rain, and sunshine does not mean it's not currently raining. So it's a good idea to bring my ridiculous green poncho everywhere I go, able to transform myself at will into a walking tent.

I've learned that traffic is a game. Since the car and the pedestrian (or bus and pedestrian) cannot be in the same place at the same time, the car speeds up to get there first. It doesn't matter where "there" is. Horns are the main feature of every car, and are used frequently. Seatbelts are used less frequently.

I've learned that the combination of stairs and a backpack is my sworn enemy at high elevations. There are 50 steps to climb on the way to school every morning (unless I take the bus, which is an entirely different thing), four flights of stairs inside the school, and four flights to get to my house. And then there is another flight to get to the kitchen.

I've learned that the bus system works only when you know how to work it. (In that respect, it's like marriage.) I've learned not to stand up more than twenty seconds from my stop, or they'll let me off right there. RIGHT there.

I've learned that soup is not thick and chunky here. It is before they put it in the blender, but it just doesn't seem to end up on the table that way. And then they put popcorn, mote, or mini french fries in it to give it some texture. Go figure.

I've learned that I'm not as afraid of dogs as I used to be. That's a good thing, because I've had to walk right through the middle of a group of seven stray dogs. They also like to follow me. One followed me from the bus stop right to the entrance of CEDEI.

Speaking of dogs, there are two categories of dogs here. There are stray dogs that no one cares about, and there are lap dogs dressed in sweaters and carried everywhere. When the two categories slightly overlap, you get dogs that live outside and are pampered inside.

I've learned that most expats from the States are ultimately just annoying. They yell into their cell phones, laugh loudly enough that pigeons don't stick around, and are generally the most entitled bunch of people I've ever seen. They are generally retired Americans, who talk about "the" Facebook as if it's a wonder that their daughter in Colorado "liked" the same picture as their Ecuadorian friend.

I've learned that I cannot seem to talk English well anymore. Spanglish is becoming more of a thing, when we speak English at all. We put definite articles in when we translate from Spanish to English, and it's common to repeat things in Spanish slowly when someone says, "What?" We don't always translate to English.

I've learned that Inca Lounge has the best American hamburgers, and Chiplote (that's spelled right) has the most wonderful taco salad. La Fornace's pizza is better than Tutto Freddo's, but you can't beat Cafe Austria's spaghetti. I've learned that there's a supermarket by the stadium, and that a burger place is definitely not at the intersection of 3 de noviembre and Gran Colombia.

I've learned that streets have odd names. I live on 24 de mayo; there's a 12 de abril and a 10 de agosto. Fray Vicente Solano vies with Gaspar Sangurima for difficulty saying fast. And doesn't Benigno Malo sound evil? The only street name that makes sense is Calle Larga: long street.

I've learned that Ecuadorians love to put alcohol sauce in ice cream. It's nasty stuff. They like to cook with it, too, but that's not so bad because the alcoholic taste goes away and all that's left is a taste that they could do very well without but don't want to.

We've learned that Parque de la Madre is a wonderful place to just lie on the grass and talk. It's also a place for couples to attempt to swallow each others' faces mouth-first for ten minutes without needing air.

I've learned that I'm hopeless with the preterite and gendered words in general. Thankfully my host family laughs at me and then corrects me. I haven't made any extreme blunders yet (as far as I know!), but it will happen sometime. Hopefully it won't end up being obscene.

But the best thing I've learned is that God is here, too. For the first three weeks it seemed like something was blocking His presence here. I've since come to realize that it doesn't matter if He's being blocked; He is still here. And then He tore through the barriers and made me realize that nothing can actually keep Him out. It was such a glorious lesson that I can't really explain it on a blog post! But it reminded me of this poem I wrote a while back:

No death nor life could shut Him in; no grave had power to hold Him.
No throne could keep Him from his own, nor wrath nor hell enfold Him.
Though leaving scars in their cruel wake, no spike could e'er detain Him.
Though sealed by Caesar's royal seal, no tomb could e'er contain Him.

No demon foul could conquer Him, no traitor could betray Him,
For all was done by God's decree and Christ by death portrayed Him.
And by His death 'tis true now that for one blood-bought forever,
No death nor life nor any else from the love of God can sever.

Of Beanstalks and Eavesdropping

Have you ever felt like you were a mere inch high, staring up at a redoubtable giant reminiscent of Jack and the beanstalk? (Fee, fie, foe, fum, etc.) Not at all like the friendly giant below.

Because that's how I feel at the moment: small, insignificant, about to be crushed by a sneering mound of bureaucratic red tape. There is so much to do. I congratulate the individuals who have completed it and not died from it yet.

On that note, I wasn't exactly dropping eaves, but I couldn't help but overhear someone else crying about having the same difficulties in the library a few days ago. Before you say that I'm a horrible person for not helping her, she had a support group with her. They were trying to figure out how she could fly home for Christmas if she sent off her birth certificate and old passport in order to get her new one. And her state ID was expired.

And I realized that I'm not so badly off. My plane ticket is paid for. I have my passport at home. I have an ID card that guarantees repatriation of remains or medical evacuation. I have my malaria pills, and all my vaccines are up to date. I have my forms turned in, including the one that says if I do illegal drugs I'll have to leave.

It doesn't matter how prepared I am. I'm still scared, and ultimately unprepared. It's the first time ever I've been out of the country, and I won't be able to connect with the people I love back home. The internet will be somewhat erratic. My posts on this blog will be sporadic at best, and random to boot (like this one). So you'll just have to understand that I'm overwhelmed, and scared, and busy.