So I just came from a community meeting. We are working on starting another community bank.
On my way out of the meeting, we´ll pick up the dialogue.
Little girl: Good evening
Ian: Good evening. How are you?
Little girl: Good. You are ugly.
Ian: Come again.
Little girl: You are ugly.
Ian: Why?
Little girl: You have a lot of hair.
Well, I guess that settles it.
I will be ugly until I can find a reliable barber down here. And judging by the other volunteer who lives nearby´s recent haircut experience, I will be ugly for a little while longer.
I will give her some credit for her manners, though. She did address me in the ´´usted´´ form, instead of the informal ´tu.´
Monday, October 19, 2009
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
My first rodeo
When I received my site assiginment, someone said the coast was kind of like the wild west.
I didn’t really understand why.
Last week, the next town over was celebrating its annual fiestas, and part of the order of events included a rodeo.
I had never been to a rodeo before, so I really didn’t need any further motivation to get me out there.
Well, the rodeo ring was dug into a valley with rows for seats carved into the hillside in the middle of the country. There was no electricity into this site. They spent forty minutes trying to start a generator to power the one-speaker sound system.
There were plenty of horses (I never realized how many horses are involved in rodeos), a few bulls, a few cowboys, a beer tent, and some vendors.
Let’s focus on the vendors.
The first guy who came past was selling bags of raisins. Ten cents a bag. Three for twenty-five cents.
This was the first time that I have ever seen a raisin vendor at any event. I did see him make one sale, so he obviously knows what the people want (or at least one person).
There was also the bread salesman, scaling mountains to sell his variety of salty and sweet breads.
You also have Bonice guy. Bonice is a popular popsicle brand in Ecuador that sells for ten cents a piece. There are kind of like freeze pops. The Bonice vendors are everywhere in Ecuador, easily recognized by the hilarious carton polar bear on their pants, along with their matching polar bear fanny pack and shirt. Obviously, Bonice guy was at the rodeo, too.
When the stadium is in the wilderness, carved into the hill, it is easy to take picture that make it look like the person is really in the middle of nowhere.
And, like any Ecuadorian event, you have the beer tent.
Now, the question is, after consuming all of those raisins, loafs of bread, freeze pops, and bottles of beer, where does one go to relieve themselves?
Up the hill of course. What is this gravity you speak of?
The action in the ring was fun. They never did a full-fledged bull-riding thing. I guess they weren’t equipped. So they did a half-fledged bucking-bronco thing, which was very fun.
They also had the rodeo clowns, whose pants kept falling down. The fans thought that was the funniest thing ever.
It was a lot of fun.
Seeing as cowboys and rodeos aren’t typical of the Ecuadorian coast, I still don’t understand why someone would describe this region as the Old West.
I didn’t really understand why.
Last week, the next town over was celebrating its annual fiestas, and part of the order of events included a rodeo.
I had never been to a rodeo before, so I really didn’t need any further motivation to get me out there.
Well, the rodeo ring was dug into a valley with rows for seats carved into the hillside in the middle of the country. There was no electricity into this site. They spent forty minutes trying to start a generator to power the one-speaker sound system.
There were plenty of horses (I never realized how many horses are involved in rodeos), a few bulls, a few cowboys, a beer tent, and some vendors.
Let’s focus on the vendors.
The first guy who came past was selling bags of raisins. Ten cents a bag. Three for twenty-five cents.
This was the first time that I have ever seen a raisin vendor at any event. I did see him make one sale, so he obviously knows what the people want (or at least one person).
There was also the bread salesman, scaling mountains to sell his variety of salty and sweet breads.
You also have Bonice guy. Bonice is a popular popsicle brand in Ecuador that sells for ten cents a piece. There are kind of like freeze pops. The Bonice vendors are everywhere in Ecuador, easily recognized by the hilarious carton polar bear on their pants, along with their matching polar bear fanny pack and shirt. Obviously, Bonice guy was at the rodeo, too.
When the stadium is in the wilderness, carved into the hill, it is easy to take picture that make it look like the person is really in the middle of nowhere.
And, like any Ecuadorian event, you have the beer tent.
Now, the question is, after consuming all of those raisins, loafs of bread, freeze pops, and bottles of beer, where does one go to relieve themselves?
Up the hill of course. What is this gravity you speak of?
The action in the ring was fun. They never did a full-fledged bull-riding thing. I guess they weren’t equipped. So they did a half-fledged bucking-bronco thing, which was very fun.
They also had the rodeo clowns, whose pants kept falling down. The fans thought that was the funniest thing ever.
It was a lot of fun.
Seeing as cowboys and rodeos aren’t typical of the Ecuadorian coast, I still don’t understand why someone would describe this region as the Old West.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Crazy Cows
With my town being in fiesta mode last week, there are a few activities that are required to be officially classified as a “fiesta.”
First, you have to have the beauty pageant.
Second, during said pageant, you have to thank the mayor sixty-four times for his attendance.
Third, you need some sort of procession or parade.
Fourth, you need to have the pyrotechnic cow.
Fifth, and I would say most importantly, you must dress a child up in a pyrotechnic cow costume, light the pyrotechnics, and then have him run through a crowd of people.
This activity is called vaca loca.
The people here know that it is a very dangerous activity. I would actually like to know how many vaca loca-related casualties there have been. But because it’s such an integral part of the fiestas here, it will be difficult to get rid of it.
After they elect the queen, they light the cow costume on fire. The kid then runs through the large crowd of people that came out to watch the pageant. He starts running, the pyrotechnics start twirling, sparks start shooting, kids shout, some cry, everybody scrams, and then the cow runs after the fleeing people to start the cycle over again.
Now, I know what you are thinking?
A pyrotechnic cow costumer, this would be a great idea for next year’s Franklin Labor Day Parade.
First, you have to have the beauty pageant.
Second, during said pageant, you have to thank the mayor sixty-four times for his attendance.
Third, you need some sort of procession or parade.
Fourth, you need to have the pyrotechnic cow.
Fifth, and I would say most importantly, you must dress a child up in a pyrotechnic cow costume, light the pyrotechnics, and then have him run through a crowd of people.
This activity is called vaca loca.
The people here know that it is a very dangerous activity. I would actually like to know how many vaca loca-related casualties there have been. But because it’s such an integral part of the fiestas here, it will be difficult to get rid of it.
After they elect the queen, they light the cow costume on fire. The kid then runs through the large crowd of people that came out to watch the pageant. He starts running, the pyrotechnics start twirling, sparks start shooting, kids shout, some cry, everybody scrams, and then the cow runs after the fleeing people to start the cycle over again.
Now, I know what you are thinking?
A pyrotechnic cow costumer, this would be a great idea for next year’s Franklin Labor Day Parade.
Friday, October 09, 2009
Hmmmmmm...
My town was celebrating fiestas last week.
I went to the central square to watch the kids' night program, when I was approached by a youngster from the community. I’ll let the dialogue do all the talking and explaining.
Ten-year old: You are from the United States?
Ian: Yes.
Ten-year old: Is it true that people do not sleep in your country?
Ian: Come again.
Ten-year old: In your country, do people sleep?
Ian: Yes. (Almost speechless)
I went to the central square to watch the kids' night program, when I was approached by a youngster from the community. I’ll let the dialogue do all the talking and explaining.
Ten-year old: You are from the United States?
Ian: Yes.
Ten-year old: Is it true that people do not sleep in your country?
Ian: Come again.
Ten-year old: In your country, do people sleep?
Ian: Yes. (Almost speechless)
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
What is the most difficult thing I have ever done?
Well, it’s a tough question to answer.
Mostly because it’s difficult to think of everything that I have done in my life.
Difficult might not be the word I’m looking for here.
I think nerve-racking fits better.
I never quite understood the value of having someone to talk to during an important sports game until tonight.
Tigers-Twins Tiebreaker.
OK, well, I thought I could do it on my own.
I was wrong.
It also doesn’t really help that this is just the second Tigers game I have watched this year.
I got a little help from my landlord during the first six innings. But béisbol isn’t really a game that Ecuadorians get behind. I spent most of that time explaining the rules. For example, when I wanted to break down Leyland's or Gardenhire’s strategy, what could I do? Who could I talk to? I tried my landlord’s wife during the first couple of innings. I would put that adventure on its own on the list of difficult things I’ve attempted (and not suceeded at).
I lost both of them at about the seventh inning, which is probably when I needed them most.
I don’t really need to tell you how many heart-wrenching or exciting situations there were to break down.
Would it have been better if I had just read about the game on the Internet?
Hell no!
This is part of having being a real fan and following your team any way you can.
Today, this meant bumming cable from your landlord in southern Ecuador while the mangos ripen outside and the tamale salesman is hawking his product just around the corner (when what you really want is an humita salesman) and you're nearly starving but cannot get off the sofa for 4 1/2 hours. Why? Because My Tigers!
Mostly because it’s difficult to think of everything that I have done in my life.
Difficult might not be the word I’m looking for here.
I think nerve-racking fits better.
I never quite understood the value of having someone to talk to during an important sports game until tonight.
Tigers-Twins Tiebreaker.
OK, well, I thought I could do it on my own.
I was wrong.
It also doesn’t really help that this is just the second Tigers game I have watched this year.
I got a little help from my landlord during the first six innings. But béisbol isn’t really a game that Ecuadorians get behind. I spent most of that time explaining the rules. For example, when I wanted to break down Leyland's or Gardenhire’s strategy, what could I do? Who could I talk to? I tried my landlord’s wife during the first couple of innings. I would put that adventure on its own on the list of difficult things I’ve attempted (and not suceeded at).
I lost both of them at about the seventh inning, which is probably when I needed them most.
I don’t really need to tell you how many heart-wrenching or exciting situations there were to break down.
- You start with Porcello getting into trouble in the third.
- You get men on the corners in the ninth with no outs. And then Randy Marsh calls, what I would argue, a really, really, really obvious ball on one of the best contact hitters in baseball. I would have preferred Stan's father. "This is America, isn't it?"
- You have ESPN Deportes announcers who are in love with Orlando Cabrera and appear to be rooting against the Tigers.
- You have Miguel Cabrera getting things going with a double and a home run to give Porcello a little help early on.
- You include the Tigers’ bullpen.
- You have Cabrera swinging at the first pitch in the 10th and grounding out.
- You include the Tigers getting the go-ahead run.
- You have Brandon Inge, coming up big with the leather and the bat.
- You have Ryan Rayburn’s dramatic turn-around from allowing the game-tying run to initiating the game-extending double play.
- You have the ground ball up the middle with one out in the 10th that looked like it could have been a game-ending double play.
- You have Gerald Laird being awesome, but only once.
- [Who knew that Aubrey Huff was even on the Tigers?]
- Then Miguel Cabrera draws a walk in the 12th, and Don Kelly singles to left. Cabrera lumbers to third (I reserve use of “lumber” for very few players. Cecil would be another.). Then Inge appears to get hit by a pitch.
- Maybe Gerald Laird can be awesome again? I would say he is about due for a hit … and then he strikes out. What kind of momentum can the Twins carry from that?
- How many innings can Rodney go?
Would it have been better if I had just read about the game on the Internet?
Hell no!
This is part of having being a real fan and following your team any way you can.
Today, this meant bumming cable from your landlord in southern Ecuador while the mangos ripen outside and the tamale salesman is hawking his product just around the corner (when what you really want is an humita salesman) and you're nearly starving but cannot get off the sofa for 4 1/2 hours. Why? Because My Tigers!
Sunday, October 04, 2009
The Spirit of Huaqillas
Huaquillas is the border town about 20 minutes away from my site.
Like any Latin American border town, it is pretty shady, contains an exciting street market where you can find anything you can think of, and is full of border town services.
There include a thriving contraband trade, merchants trying to smuggle good through customs, pick-pockets who escape to the other side of the border (no need to pass through customs, you just have to cross a bridge over Huaquillas’/Aguas Verdes’ version of the Los Angeles River, and you are in Peru), and money changers.
Your standard Huaqillas money changer sits on a plastic chair near the main taxi stand. He wears a pastel colored, button-down, short-sleeve shirt. Hair is normally slicked back or combed over, depending on hair line status. He may or may not have a pen in his ear. On his lap, he place a plain black or brown brief case, partially opened. In one hand, he has a calculator, in the other a wad of cash.
There isn’t just one or two of these guys, more like a batallion — lined up along the street to exchange your bills.
Now, I have not needed to support this sector of the economy because I can’t leave the country. But I can’t stroll through the market without noticing their presence.
So two days ago, I was looking for muffin tins in the market’s backstalls a block from the money changers — that is where they keep the cooking supplies (bootleg DVDs, stolen appliances, knock-off Armani, and three-dollar polo shirts are in the front stalls). Then I saw something that I thought was a mirage.
In front of me was this …
The Cambista Statue
What I like about this statue is its accuracy. If you look on the guy’s forearm, you will see what appears to be a tattoo. So as cartoonish as the guy may look, the uniform, build, and tattoo artwork is dead-on.
Instead of escaping its place as a border town that thrives on the border economy, Huaquillas has embraced it. The only issue with this statue is that it’s one block off the main strip so few people know it exists.
I haven’t been in Huaqillas during futbol season yet, but I imagine that when Comerical Huaqillas or Huaqillas F.C. makes it to the championship game that the Spirit of Huaqillas proudly sports the hometown colors.
I am hoping that this post will be the first in a series about Ecuador’s outstanding statues — a calendar, perhaps…..
Like any Latin American border town, it is pretty shady, contains an exciting street market where you can find anything you can think of, and is full of border town services.
There include a thriving contraband trade, merchants trying to smuggle good through customs, pick-pockets who escape to the other side of the border (no need to pass through customs, you just have to cross a bridge over Huaquillas’/Aguas Verdes’ version of the Los Angeles River, and you are in Peru), and money changers.
Your standard Huaqillas money changer sits on a plastic chair near the main taxi stand. He wears a pastel colored, button-down, short-sleeve shirt. Hair is normally slicked back or combed over, depending on hair line status. He may or may not have a pen in his ear. On his lap, he place a plain black or brown brief case, partially opened. In one hand, he has a calculator, in the other a wad of cash.
There isn’t just one or two of these guys, more like a batallion — lined up along the street to exchange your bills.
Now, I have not needed to support this sector of the economy because I can’t leave the country. But I can’t stroll through the market without noticing their presence.
So two days ago, I was looking for muffin tins in the market’s backstalls a block from the money changers — that is where they keep the cooking supplies (bootleg DVDs, stolen appliances, knock-off Armani, and three-dollar polo shirts are in the front stalls). Then I saw something that I thought was a mirage.
In front of me was this …
The Cambista Statue
What I like about this statue is its accuracy. If you look on the guy’s forearm, you will see what appears to be a tattoo. So as cartoonish as the guy may look, the uniform, build, and tattoo artwork is dead-on.
Instead of escaping its place as a border town that thrives on the border economy, Huaquillas has embraced it. The only issue with this statue is that it’s one block off the main strip so few people know it exists.
I haven’t been in Huaqillas during futbol season yet, but I imagine that when Comerical Huaqillas or Huaqillas F.C. makes it to the championship game that the Spirit of Huaqillas proudly sports the hometown colors.
I am hoping that this post will be the first in a series about Ecuador’s outstanding statues — a calendar, perhaps…..
Friday, October 02, 2009
Which holiday were we celebrating?
Yom Kippur, sukkot, Tu B’Shevat and Purim: All in One
I didn’t have, what you would call, your typical Yom Kippur.
(Yom Kippur means “Day of Atonement.” It is considered the holiest day of the Jewish year, and one traditionally spends all day in synagogue or watching the Jazz Singer. This was my first Yom Kippur away from home.)
It started with an Ian-led Kol Nidre services. Although we put together just ten percent of a minyan, the shul surpassed its all-time attendance record. The entire local Jewish community was thrilled.
There are several downsides to not being able to spend the holiday with a community. But let me tell you one bonus, services don’t take very long.
You see, without the necessary ten people to have a full prayer service, it is my understanding that about an hour and a half of each servies can’t be performed. (I’m no expert in halakhah, but without a minyan you don’t do a repitition of the Amidah, thereby chopping more than four hours of Yom Kippur services.)
So I breezed through services, although it was obvious that the chazzan had no really practiced most of the prayers since last Yom Kippur. My Kol Nidre might have been a bit off rhythm, I didn’t have an inspirational sermon to share with myself, and the dress code might have been a bit lax (hey, you try doing services without A/C), but I did what I could.
In the morning, I couldn’t get right to services because I had promised my time to the high school across the street from my house. We split the class into groups. With some of the students we planted fruit trees in a mini nursery we started at the high school.
With the other group we harvested cilantro and lettuce from the garden. The students then decided to sell it to their fellow students to generate funds to support the garden. Cilantro went for ten cents per bunch, and the lettuce for fifteen cents per bunch. Overall, the girls made $3.90. Everyone was happy.
Some of the girls also planted pineapple, which is really easy. All you do is stick the leafy end of the pineapple plant in the ground. Then, after eighteen months, you have fruit. In the meantime, you get a really cool-looking plant that need minimal watering. We planted the pineapples around the path to the garden in the school.
After teaching at the high school and watering the garden at the nursery, I got back home just in time for the start of shaharit (the morning service). Although we were pushing on 11:00, the chazzan was patient and waited for himself to arrive before beginning.
Well, I stormed through shaharit and mussaf and was out of shul by 1:00. I went to go water the community garden with the kids from the neighborhood, attended a youth group meeting, and then went home for the study session.
Unfortunately, I didn’t put anything together for myself to study, and I didn’t have a copy of the Jazz Singer. So, in this season of pennant races, I thought it was only right that I would watch Major League.
After the movie, it was time for minchah (the afternoon service).
Then I went down the street for the parade.
Parade?
Yes, parade.
You see, my town is in a state of fiesta right now. And all week long, they are celebrating. The party kicked off with a parade, organized by the municipality, on Monday afternoon. All of my coworkers were walking at the front of the parade.
They encouraged me to join them, but I was beginning to feel the effects of the fast. So I just watched.
There were drum corps, youth on stilts, indigenous dance troupes, motor-taxi parades, and candidates for the Queen of the Fiestas Patronales. Everyone was happy.
Then I went home, did neilah, and broke my fast with some bread, babaco, sweet potato, cold rice, and boiled bananas.
Definitely a Yom Kippur to remember.
I didn’t have, what you would call, your typical Yom Kippur.
(Yom Kippur means “Day of Atonement.” It is considered the holiest day of the Jewish year, and one traditionally spends all day in synagogue or watching the Jazz Singer. This was my first Yom Kippur away from home.)
It started with an Ian-led Kol Nidre services. Although we put together just ten percent of a minyan, the shul surpassed its all-time attendance record. The entire local Jewish community was thrilled.
There are several downsides to not being able to spend the holiday with a community. But let me tell you one bonus, services don’t take very long.
You see, without the necessary ten people to have a full prayer service, it is my understanding that about an hour and a half of each servies can’t be performed. (I’m no expert in halakhah, but without a minyan you don’t do a repitition of the Amidah, thereby chopping more than four hours of Yom Kippur services.)
So I breezed through services, although it was obvious that the chazzan had no really practiced most of the prayers since last Yom Kippur. My Kol Nidre might have been a bit off rhythm, I didn’t have an inspirational sermon to share with myself, and the dress code might have been a bit lax (hey, you try doing services without A/C), but I did what I could.
In the morning, I couldn’t get right to services because I had promised my time to the high school across the street from my house. We split the class into groups. With some of the students we planted fruit trees in a mini nursery we started at the high school.
With the other group we harvested cilantro and lettuce from the garden. The students then decided to sell it to their fellow students to generate funds to support the garden. Cilantro went for ten cents per bunch, and the lettuce for fifteen cents per bunch. Overall, the girls made $3.90. Everyone was happy.
Some of the girls also planted pineapple, which is really easy. All you do is stick the leafy end of the pineapple plant in the ground. Then, after eighteen months, you have fruit. In the meantime, you get a really cool-looking plant that need minimal watering. We planted the pineapples around the path to the garden in the school.
After teaching at the high school and watering the garden at the nursery, I got back home just in time for the start of shaharit (the morning service). Although we were pushing on 11:00, the chazzan was patient and waited for himself to arrive before beginning.
Well, I stormed through shaharit and mussaf and was out of shul by 1:00. I went to go water the community garden with the kids from the neighborhood, attended a youth group meeting, and then went home for the study session.
Unfortunately, I didn’t put anything together for myself to study, and I didn’t have a copy of the Jazz Singer. So, in this season of pennant races, I thought it was only right that I would watch Major League.
After the movie, it was time for minchah (the afternoon service).
Then I went down the street for the parade.
Parade?
Yes, parade.
You see, my town is in a state of fiesta right now. And all week long, they are celebrating. The party kicked off with a parade, organized by the municipality, on Monday afternoon. All of my coworkers were walking at the front of the parade.
They encouraged me to join them, but I was beginning to feel the effects of the fast. So I just watched.
There were drum corps, youth on stilts, indigenous dance troupes, motor-taxi parades, and candidates for the Queen of the Fiestas Patronales. Everyone was happy.
Then I went home, did neilah, and broke my fast with some bread, babaco, sweet potato, cold rice, and boiled bananas.
Definitely a Yom Kippur to remember.
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