Lord of the Dance

It occurred to me the other day that I don't think there is such thing as a Latin song that isn't meant to be danced to. And oh have we been dancing. It seems that once a week dance lessons break out in my kitchen. Most recently it was Friday night when my language group came over to make mashed Comotés, purple Ecuadorian sweet potatoes, for a potluck.  The boxed fruit wine was flowing (somehow worse than it sounds by the way) and by the time we finished dinner, my host mother had of course asked the new guests if they liked to dance.  -- A note of warning to my PC friends who read this and have not had the privilege of meeting my host mother, if you answer yes to this question, she will, without fail, command my 16 year old host brother to set up his speakers and mp3 player and teach y'all a few moves. This is her desired response.  If you answer no, I imagine she'll give you a remarkably poignant hurt disappointed look developed not only from being a parent, but also years of being a high school teacher. Seriously, it's impossible to not feel like you've just failed her -- So the speakers came out, the dancing commenced, and a good time was had by all. Each of the three ladies in the group had a tutorial with Abrancito, who has taken a fair amount of dance classes, and is quite good to my untrained eyes.  Just another night in the Casa Luna.

On Saturdays we have a half day of Language and Culture class. Yesterday this meant a personal evaluation with our facilitator, sitting on the roof of our training center with a view of the entire mountain encased valley discussing a chapter we read about the indigenous groups of Ecuador, and the potluck. Rough life let me tell you.  After class I went home, watched Glee, which comes on at 2:15 in the afternoon on Saturday, and got my hair cut, which was less interesting that I hoped it would be, though came out better than I figured it would.  Last night we had a surprise birthday party for one of our volunteers, which migrated to a bar called "Shawarma King," which to the best of my ability to tell does not serve middle eastern food. The Gringo dance circle drew the attention of pretty much everyone, and at some point the attention ended up on me. Now, you might be thinking that this happened because I'm 4 1/2 feet taller than the average Ecuadorian, and maybe you would be right, but at the end of my turn in the spotlight I received a round of applause from the entire bar. This one is going on the lifetime accomplishment list.

On to bullet points

*My parents figured out Skype tonight. My Skype name is natbalder. I like talking to people, you should add me and we should be friends.

*I translated for a half an hour of my parents talking to my host mother. Good times.

*On thursday we had to teach a lesson at a local primary school. My group taught about food chains and energy flow. Aside from not being sure how to communicate certain points, it wasn't that different from other teaching I've done.

*Tomorrow I leave for Cotacachi, about 3 hours north in the mountains for a technical training trip. I'm pretty stoked about it.

Two Weeks Down, 113 To Go

Much has happened since I locked my host mother out of the house on that first afternoon. First of, my host mother is all sorts of fun. This was immediately evident upon meeting her, but was confirmed when on the third night when I told her that I liked to dance, which as a general concept is true. She, however, decided that this meant we had to stop everything so that she and my host brother could teach me to dance. Jorge brought his speakers into the kitchen, hooked up his mp3 player, and the party was on. I learned a couple of steps of Samba and either Merengue or Cumbia, I don't remember. After 15 minutes of lessons Jorge switched it over to techno and he and my host mom continued groovin while I got my camera. Unfortunately the video doesn't seem to want to upload.

Last weekend the family took a day trip to Santo Domingo, the province next to Pichincha, where I live. My host father's father owned a farm, a house, and a gas station there until he died in 2009, and now my host father and his brother take care of the properties. Unfortunately, it rained for most of the time we were there, so I didn't get to check out the farm. I did, however, get to sleep under a mosquito net for the first time. If I end up in the lowlands there'll be a whole lot more of that in my future.  We went to a park in Santo Domingo before leaving sunday afternoon, where Adriana talked our way into shooting hoops with an 8 year old and his mother. I taught him to shoot with proper form, and he is now well on his way to being the Ecuadorian Ray Allen. After that I ended up playing in a coed 4 of 4 game, in which I had at least 7 inches on everyone. Apparently basketball is the most popular sport amongst women in Ecuador, while soccer and volleyball are more popular amongst men.
The drive to Santo Domingo is pretty intense. We went up through Quito, which is 2,800 meters and ended at 500 meters, the descent taking place over about 70km of winding road down the western slope of the Andes.  Right now is the rainy season, so the road was wet and the clouds were thick enough that all I could see was one curve ahead, and a white abyss to my right. Meanwhile, every inch of land to the left was covered by lush green vegetation, and water was cascading down every other crevice. I was glad I wasn't driving and simply got to admire the scenery.  There were a few spots where the side of the mountain was washed away from landslides that I'm told are responsible for closing the road sporadically.

Technical training has been for the most part enjoyable. A little redundant at times, and a little powerpoint/classroom heavy when compared to what the agriculture trainees have been up to, but by and large I feel like I'm being prepared for work and life over the next couple of years. My official position is in Environmental Education within the Natural Resource Conservation program of Peace Corps Ecuador, though they warn everyone that there's a strong chance that our actual work will span a broad range of activities. We've had some EE training, learned how to do a basic community assessment, and started an organic garden in the back of our training center. Thursday we have to run an activity in one of the primary schools here in Tumbaco, which should be an experience. I have some ideas, but they still haven't told us what ages we'll be working with.

A few bullet points to finish this up:

*I'm feeling alright about where my Spanish is. I'm very comfortable speaking. My main problem is that my vocabulary is lagging and I'm terrible at remembering new words without writing them down and drilling them into my head. I'm no longer translating everything I read/hear into English in my head, though, which has helped considerably.
*It's nice to again be working amongst what is by and large an awesome group of peers from whom I can learn a lot.
*Three of said peers came over last night and we made pizza for my host family and a few relatives. I had a great time, and damn if that pizza didn't taste good.
*We've played soccer twice after training so far.  So.  Much.  Fun.  Also the first time playing at altitude: So.  Much.  Pain.
*I've decided that I'm not going to get sick the entire time I'm here. The decision has been made. End of discussion.
*Six days out of the week, I love that I wake up naturally between 6:00 and 6:30. On the seventh day, I do not.
*It is impossible to overdo it on avocado or pineapple.

How to Make a First Impression

One of the things that I have been looking forward to most out of the whole Peace Corps experience is living with a host family.  Our first two days in Ecuador were spent staying at el Centro de Espiritualidad San Patricio, a retreat from which we had a chartered bus to the Peace Corps Training Center.  Day three was the day that we got to move in with our hosts. With my fear of being well behind most of the group at Spanish eased, my nerves had turned to excitement.

Everyone was given a card with their first names on it, and told that somewhere out in the mass of host families, your host had the card with your last name. After much confusion, I was introduced to my host mother Adriana. She's about 5 feet tall and full of energy, and I can tell immediately that this is going to be great. I grabbed my bags, we hopped in her car, and off we went to my home for the next 11 weeks.

Basically, all that we were told about our homestays was that we would have our own rooms and that they are in Tumbaco, the same town as the training center. The only request I put on my form was that I would prefer a house with children. I didn't have any feel for what a typical house in Tumbaco is like, though from the windows of the bus it was obvious that there are some very nice places to live. Due to the high crime rate, gated communities are fairly common for those that can afford them, and it wasn't a surprise when we pulled up to a gate. The house is actually behind a second gate that closes in the yard. 

I'm greeted by two dogs, and a lovely house on top of a lush, rabbit and fruit tree inhabited yard! Adriana's husband and son, both Jorge, are in Quito for a while because Jorge Jr. has to take driver's ed, so Adriana gives me the tour and I start to set up my room while she prepares lunch.  I go into the kitchen and start asking what everything is, if there's anything I can do, etc. When I ask about the mandarin oranges Adriana tells me to follow her and walks out the door to show me the tree. I close the door behind me and off we...

Oops! Remember that security thing? Well, another part of that is having a door that locks automatically.  So there we are, about an hour after I arrive and I have locked us out of the house. Smooth. But it gets better. The gate to the driveway is latched, and you need a key to open it. In short, we couldn't get into the house, nor could we leave the yard.  My window is the only one open, but it has ironwork bars covering it.  We try prying the lock on the kitchen window open with wire to no avail.  The walls of the yard are at least two meters high, but with a ladder Adriana is able to peer over and call to her neighbor, who of course is not home. I carry the ladder to the gate to the street, and fortunately Adriana is able to flag down someone and borrow their phone to call her husband, who happens to be on the opposite side of Quito, a little over an hour away.  I finally get to see the mandarin orange tree, and we sit at the table eating bunches of grapes from another tree in her yard.  Good times