Oh hello, I didn´t see you come in....mostly because I am not there right now haha, but it would be nice to be there.
So check it out, last week I mentioned something about middle class Ecuadorians, or rather, some of my neighbors who live in cane houses and on dirt roads, without running water, feel they are middle class. Now, while these thoughts exist and are true for some, to suggest it is the norm is a gross misrepresentation of the reality.
I have also spoken of different ways to define poverty, one being in relation to material wealth in the States and the other being a view that is opportunity-based. But recently I have been thinking too about organization or lack thereof. In the past ten days, I have been in a number of homes that were quite disorganized. This disorganization has had a surprising impact on me. While many of the people here are poor, both materially, financially and opportunity-wise, there reality can be misconstrued with how their home is. If their home is organized, it is clean, which tends to mean that they themselves practice good hygiene, which all leads to the suggestion that they have the time or can afford to take the time to care for themselves and their home. On the flip side, those who have less time, often have messy homes, which leads to poor hygiene at times. This lack of cleanliness, manifests itself elsewhere in the communities. The fact that the roads are dirt and there is a lot of dust, there is little grass here in Duran so parks are usually concrete, and the overall presence of flora is minimal. Maybe its the weather, or maybe it is insufficient funds to pave the roads and tend to grass, trees and plants, but I think one way or another it is all connected. So, organization and cleanliness have been new indicators for me as to the reality of the situation, not just here, but in most of the world.
But now that I am looking for ¨signs of poverty¨ after my previous blog, I see it more often (partly because I think I was used to seeing them that I stopped thinking twice about them). Such as women with unshaved armpits or legs, children who don´t get to bathe often, clothes that do not fit correctly, shoes with holes in them, repeating clothing choices, groups of three riding on a bicycle together for transportation, and water barrels. Things are not easy to come by. Coupled with the fact that many women here are single and the head of the household, attempting to stretch limited funds for food, school and entertainment for their kids, not to mention possible medical situations. Those who remain in relationship with their husbands tend to have a little more room, but it doesn´t mean everything in the home is always on good terms. It is a machista culture of course.
So things are hard for many people down here. Without running water, families have between 3 and 6 barrels they have filled with water every two to four days or so. Each barrel holds about 50 gallons of water I believe, (Ill double check these figures) and costs .60 cents to fill from a water truck that passes by. To give you an idea of what ridiculous comfort myself and the other volunteers live in, we have a 2,000 gallon cistern which supplies running water to our house. We fill it every 14-18 days, and call the water truck specifically. The water truck, which hold 40 barrels of water or 2,000 gallons, empties out in our cistern. Wild stuff...and unsettling.
And finally, a though about Che and Paulo Freire. Freire wrote ¨The Pedagogy of the Oppressed¨ and he says a lot of wonderful and interesting things. Without oversimplifying it too much, he speaks of the need to transform the world in a fashion that we each reach our ontological vocation of full humanization. That is to say, to become fully human and to have the full dignity each person deserves is what is needed. He speaks of oppression as dehumanizing to both the oppressor and the oppressed, and that the oppressed must liberate both themselves and the oppressors. But he also says, that in order to do this, to transform this world so that human dignity is respected, realized and prioritized, we must be lovers of life. We must love the world, we must love people, and we must love life. He comments too, how Che wrote ¨Let me say, at the risk of sounding ridiculous, that the true revolutionary is guided by great feelings of love.¨
So that is what I am trying to do, celebrate life with those around me, and share in our love for life. Peace amigos!
PS - I joined a soccer team with my friend here. Our team wears the Argentina jersey, sweet eh. I played Saturday night and had a great time, scored a couple goals and we won the game. The best part was though, some of the kids calling me the name of Argentine players haha, good stuff. Peace!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Saturday, September 22, 2007
Pictures from Pilco!! (I have shaved since then...)
This is Scott, Patrick and myself in the middle of a climb.
Here I am...mountain man!
This is me milking a cow with Ara´s aunt watching on. The cow hit us all in the face individually with its tail.
This is me milking a cow with Ara´s aunt watching on. The cow hit us all in the face individually with its tail.
This here is of Patrick, Jesse, Scott, Ara and myself. 
This is of Patrick, Scott and me in the bed in Pilco earlier in September.
This is part of the hill we climbed...
Monday, September 17, 2007
Hello my dear friends, how are things in your piece of the world? I trust they are going well. I have few thoughts today, and they may be a little scattered so I apologize in advance.
This past weekend I participated in a few very exciting activities. First, Saturday morning I traveled with Scott to downtown Guayaquil to check out some music stores. Later that evening Scott, Patrick, Eric and I went to our director´s house to watch some college football and eat some pizza at his new apartment. It was a nice rest, but later that night I went out to a club with some friends from my neighborhood and had a blast. Those however, were just the warm up.
Sunday, I went to a soccer game. And not just any soccer game for those who live in and near Guayaquil. I went to the ¨superclasico¨ between Barcelona and Emelec, at Barcelona´s stadium. Both teams are from Guayaquil, and before the game, Barcelona was in first place, two points behind Emelec, and so an Emelec win would put them in first. To give you an idea of how much money this game makes everytime it is played, read this: All Ecuador soccer league games are shown on basic cable TV except for this game. Homes have to purchase this game as if it were pay-per-view, everytime. On basic cable, they show the players warming up and then as the game is being played, the camera pans the stadium and fans as the announcers speaks so you can´t watch without purchasing. Either way, it is set up to be big everytime. But, now for the craziness of the day!
To start, I am ok, and nothing major happened to me or Scott whom I went to the game with. So, Barcelona is in yellow and Emelec in blue. We take a bus from the terminal in Guayaquil that had a lot of Barcelona fans on it. We were told the bus took you a number of blocks from the stadium, which you then had to walk because the streets were blocked off. So we are on the bus, mostly yellow and some Emelec fans come on too, everynow and then. As we get closer to the stadium, but still far away, some of the Emelec fans in blue shirts left the bus, running to catch up with other blue shirted fans. I was thinking ¨man these kids are in a hurry¨ Finally, at a corner all the Barcelona fans get off the bus, and Scott and I, not really knowing what we were doing and without tickets purchased at this point, got off with them as we thought it was a smart way to find the stadium. When the Barcelona fans got off they too started to job. But it was jogging that lasted 8 seconds at a time with 3 second breaks, it was ridiculous an funny. It was as if they could not make up their mind.
Shortly after we got off the bus, we started to cross a bridge. By the top of the bridge, Scott and I were near the front of the crowd, and to our left, maybe seven blocks away we could see the stadium. As we headed down the second half of the bridge, an overpass became visible at the end of our bridge. Underneath the overpass were a few police officers and some Barcelona fans who were backing up in our direction. On top of the overpass were THOUSANDS of Emelec fans in blue. And they were not just chanting and singing, they were throwing rocks and at one point and explosive device at us. It was amazing! The police were baking us up a fourth of the bridge and stopped traffic under the overpass as Emelec fans gathered above, with a line of cops at the front. Apparently at Barcelona´s stadium, the vistor enterance crosses the Barcelona enterence. So Barcelona fans enter first, then Emelec in a huge, violent parade, and then Barcelona fans again. As it were, we were in the front of the second Barcelona batch.
As the crowd behind us grew bigger and more visibly yellow, (we were wearing white) the Emelec parade passed by. When it was safe, a line of police escorted us, riot-style sans the intense gear, under the overpass and towards the stadium. Every now and then the police would stop to keep good space between the two ¨barras¨(groups of fans). The entire time of course, people from both sides were yelling the many obsenities one hears at a sporting event, especially at a Latin American soccer match. Finally, we were at the stadium, police in front of us, and we found a guy selling tickets outside the stadium (apparently that is how it is down here) and got seats for behind one of the goals.
In most stadiums, the craziest events happen behind the goal on the first tier. Each goal typically is reserved for one team. However, in this stadium, the area behind both goals is for Barcelona. And a half section on one side of the field was for Emelec fans. This is how it was from my and Scott´s perspective. We sat behind the north goal, second tier, fourth row, right side. The lateral piece on our right was general audiences. The lateral piece on our left was were Emelec fans were, and on the far side of that lateral piece was Barcelona fans, with police in between. On the top of both lateral side were boxed seating. At the far south goal, it was puro Barcelona fans.
As game time approaches, things start to get interesting. Emelec fans light a noise maker which explodes in their area. You could tell when something was going to be lit, because huge holes would open up in the fans and you could see concrete as people backed up from the device. Finally, the game begins! Fireworks go off. Emelec fans start lighting flares and shortly thereafter, yet unrelated I believe, there was a fire in the far south section, second tier. Things are getting crazy and sweet! Anytime anyone stood up in front, they had water or beer thrown on them and fans encouraged the cops to send them away. So much activity happening in the crowd that it would have been easy to miss the game. But things settled down at times, to the point that the four police officers in our section bought ice creams and were eating them in the corner, and one had a Sprite in his gun holster. Imagine the stereotypical cop eating a donought...that is all I could think about. haha.
But while it was calm in our section, it was dangerous in others. On the south side, second tier there was a substantial fight to the point that maybe 15 cops and military had to sit in the middle. The worst part though, was the flares that were shot from one teams section to another. You would hear the swoosh of a rocket and searched for the flare, or catch the smoke trail and follow it quickly to find its target. One Barcelona flare landed in an Emelec box, funny from afar. But later, and this was the tragic part of the game, the Emelec section shot a flare across the field in to a Barcelona box seat, striking an 11 year old child in the chest. Unfotunately and sadly the child died upon arriving at the hospital. We actually did not find out about it until we got home later that night. And again, question arise about justice in life and tragedy and how barbaric and intoxicated with passion and rage people can become. Especially here, it is not just a love for soccer people exert at a game...but its much more and easily related to any joy or frustration a person feels in their normal day to day life. Soccer games are a release of all emotion.
The game ended 1-0 Emelec the victors, and we headed home, arriving safely, only with beer and water on us and a little wiser and how things can be down here. Overall, it was a fun experience which has caused good reflection. Which leads me to another piece that I have been thinking of, and I will try to make this quick so as not to bore.
I reflect a lot here. Partly because of what I am involved in I believe but more so because I expect to. It is hard to relate life and even cities here to in the States because I am not familiar with ¨poverty¨ in the States. Of course it exists, but I choose to or by chance, do not interact with it. Therefore it is hard for me at this point to aknowledge one´s generosity, in a hosue I would consider ¨poor¨as something driven by culture, faith or humanity. I recognize above all that poverty is not material, but more about opportunity and accesibilty. Since I have young I have had a perception of poverty, but it was been limiting and thus I need to change my perspective a little bit. I aslo realize (after a conversation I had last week) that those I might consider ¨poor,¨ here consider themselves middle class. But here I am continually offered food, people giving of the little they have we will say, and I just have not experienced that in the States. And if and when I have, I have not noticed it. I am not looking for it consciously or subconsciously in the States. Of course it exists but my passions have never taken my there. And too, I am sure pieces of what I experience here are culturally influenced, but I want to believe it is something universal too. At this point, I am not sure what all that means, but I feel part of the thought has been brought on by the existentialist within me.
I hesitate to share specific stories for the fear of putting too much meaning into them. That is the existentialist wrestling with the piece in me that belives in meaning and interconnectedness and purpose. But I have always been one to be able to connect things and universalize them, to show that love and joy are transcedent of time, history and culture. Partly because I believe in a God that created the opportunity for the same love and joy to be experienced today that was experienced at the begining of mankind. It is one of the reason I think God made nature so beautiful and the stars cover the earth. Hills in Ecuador could be similar to those in Italy or some other nation and still inspire similiar joys and awes in people who might very well never meet. Regardless, there are beautiful things happening everyday, everywhere. Despite the pain and hurt that exists, and mans perpetuation of suffering by deny others love, I believe good things happen. We have to look for them, but not force them.
And this leads me to another piece. At this point in my life, I cannot ¨give up¨ everything to make the world more just and true. For example, I enjoying going out, I enjoying spending money for a soccer game, and I am genuinely filled by them on different levels at this point. At the same time, it doesn´t mean that I am not hurt when after going to a soccer game I see a homeless man laying on carboard on a street. And I think, if I am not going to do something big (in part because I can´t right now, but also because I just don´t know how to affect and change the ¨system¨) what can I do? And I guess it is ¨small¨ things which are rooted in love. Conversation and dignity given to someone by looking them in the eye and not turning away. And while not making others dependent on you, I am going to try and remember to have extra change on me for food, or food itself, in the event I cross paths with someone in hunger or need. We will see, I am learning everyday that I choose to be open, and am trying not to burn out while loving and understanding why it is that fellow friends I have not met hurt so much and things are going well for me. I believe suffering to be rooted in people, and its cause rooted in a lack of faith, but I just don´t know if it will ever make full sense in this lifetime...
Despite the heavy thoughts, things are good. It is easy to feel uncomfortable here because we get a lot of special treatment from locals. We are invited to farms and are hugged by kids everywhere. But kids are not running up to fellow Ecuadorians for hugs or being invited by neighbors to their farms. Not that I have seen anyway. Patrick and I have spoken of this a little. But it would be nice to see a hospitality shared to all people regardless of culture. Of course, chances are I will never see a purly Ecuadorian encounter because unless I am spying, I will be visible and an influence on the interaction. Not to say it is not pure and genuine, but it is unique when there is someone from out of town in the room.
And so I sign off writing far more than I would have hoped because I know these things can get tiring to read. But for what it is worth, I still believe, today anyway, that things are connected, have meaning and are of importance. And it is just as the Little Prince ends...what does it matter if the sheep ate the rose? It could mean nothing, and it could mean everything....for the Little Prince and for me too, today its everything.
Peace and love amigos!
This past weekend I participated in a few very exciting activities. First, Saturday morning I traveled with Scott to downtown Guayaquil to check out some music stores. Later that evening Scott, Patrick, Eric and I went to our director´s house to watch some college football and eat some pizza at his new apartment. It was a nice rest, but later that night I went out to a club with some friends from my neighborhood and had a blast. Those however, were just the warm up.
Sunday, I went to a soccer game. And not just any soccer game for those who live in and near Guayaquil. I went to the ¨superclasico¨ between Barcelona and Emelec, at Barcelona´s stadium. Both teams are from Guayaquil, and before the game, Barcelona was in first place, two points behind Emelec, and so an Emelec win would put them in first. To give you an idea of how much money this game makes everytime it is played, read this: All Ecuador soccer league games are shown on basic cable TV except for this game. Homes have to purchase this game as if it were pay-per-view, everytime. On basic cable, they show the players warming up and then as the game is being played, the camera pans the stadium and fans as the announcers speaks so you can´t watch without purchasing. Either way, it is set up to be big everytime. But, now for the craziness of the day!
To start, I am ok, and nothing major happened to me or Scott whom I went to the game with. So, Barcelona is in yellow and Emelec in blue. We take a bus from the terminal in Guayaquil that had a lot of Barcelona fans on it. We were told the bus took you a number of blocks from the stadium, which you then had to walk because the streets were blocked off. So we are on the bus, mostly yellow and some Emelec fans come on too, everynow and then. As we get closer to the stadium, but still far away, some of the Emelec fans in blue shirts left the bus, running to catch up with other blue shirted fans. I was thinking ¨man these kids are in a hurry¨ Finally, at a corner all the Barcelona fans get off the bus, and Scott and I, not really knowing what we were doing and without tickets purchased at this point, got off with them as we thought it was a smart way to find the stadium. When the Barcelona fans got off they too started to job. But it was jogging that lasted 8 seconds at a time with 3 second breaks, it was ridiculous an funny. It was as if they could not make up their mind.
Shortly after we got off the bus, we started to cross a bridge. By the top of the bridge, Scott and I were near the front of the crowd, and to our left, maybe seven blocks away we could see the stadium. As we headed down the second half of the bridge, an overpass became visible at the end of our bridge. Underneath the overpass were a few police officers and some Barcelona fans who were backing up in our direction. On top of the overpass were THOUSANDS of Emelec fans in blue. And they were not just chanting and singing, they were throwing rocks and at one point and explosive device at us. It was amazing! The police were baking us up a fourth of the bridge and stopped traffic under the overpass as Emelec fans gathered above, with a line of cops at the front. Apparently at Barcelona´s stadium, the vistor enterance crosses the Barcelona enterence. So Barcelona fans enter first, then Emelec in a huge, violent parade, and then Barcelona fans again. As it were, we were in the front of the second Barcelona batch.
As the crowd behind us grew bigger and more visibly yellow, (we were wearing white) the Emelec parade passed by. When it was safe, a line of police escorted us, riot-style sans the intense gear, under the overpass and towards the stadium. Every now and then the police would stop to keep good space between the two ¨barras¨(groups of fans). The entire time of course, people from both sides were yelling the many obsenities one hears at a sporting event, especially at a Latin American soccer match. Finally, we were at the stadium, police in front of us, and we found a guy selling tickets outside the stadium (apparently that is how it is down here) and got seats for behind one of the goals.
In most stadiums, the craziest events happen behind the goal on the first tier. Each goal typically is reserved for one team. However, in this stadium, the area behind both goals is for Barcelona. And a half section on one side of the field was for Emelec fans. This is how it was from my and Scott´s perspective. We sat behind the north goal, second tier, fourth row, right side. The lateral piece on our right was general audiences. The lateral piece on our left was were Emelec fans were, and on the far side of that lateral piece was Barcelona fans, with police in between. On the top of both lateral side were boxed seating. At the far south goal, it was puro Barcelona fans.
As game time approaches, things start to get interesting. Emelec fans light a noise maker which explodes in their area. You could tell when something was going to be lit, because huge holes would open up in the fans and you could see concrete as people backed up from the device. Finally, the game begins! Fireworks go off. Emelec fans start lighting flares and shortly thereafter, yet unrelated I believe, there was a fire in the far south section, second tier. Things are getting crazy and sweet! Anytime anyone stood up in front, they had water or beer thrown on them and fans encouraged the cops to send them away. So much activity happening in the crowd that it would have been easy to miss the game. But things settled down at times, to the point that the four police officers in our section bought ice creams and were eating them in the corner, and one had a Sprite in his gun holster. Imagine the stereotypical cop eating a donought...that is all I could think about. haha.
But while it was calm in our section, it was dangerous in others. On the south side, second tier there was a substantial fight to the point that maybe 15 cops and military had to sit in the middle. The worst part though, was the flares that were shot from one teams section to another. You would hear the swoosh of a rocket and searched for the flare, or catch the smoke trail and follow it quickly to find its target. One Barcelona flare landed in an Emelec box, funny from afar. But later, and this was the tragic part of the game, the Emelec section shot a flare across the field in to a Barcelona box seat, striking an 11 year old child in the chest. Unfotunately and sadly the child died upon arriving at the hospital. We actually did not find out about it until we got home later that night. And again, question arise about justice in life and tragedy and how barbaric and intoxicated with passion and rage people can become. Especially here, it is not just a love for soccer people exert at a game...but its much more and easily related to any joy or frustration a person feels in their normal day to day life. Soccer games are a release of all emotion.
The game ended 1-0 Emelec the victors, and we headed home, arriving safely, only with beer and water on us and a little wiser and how things can be down here. Overall, it was a fun experience which has caused good reflection. Which leads me to another piece that I have been thinking of, and I will try to make this quick so as not to bore.
I reflect a lot here. Partly because of what I am involved in I believe but more so because I expect to. It is hard to relate life and even cities here to in the States because I am not familiar with ¨poverty¨ in the States. Of course it exists, but I choose to or by chance, do not interact with it. Therefore it is hard for me at this point to aknowledge one´s generosity, in a hosue I would consider ¨poor¨as something driven by culture, faith or humanity. I recognize above all that poverty is not material, but more about opportunity and accesibilty. Since I have young I have had a perception of poverty, but it was been limiting and thus I need to change my perspective a little bit. I aslo realize (after a conversation I had last week) that those I might consider ¨poor,¨ here consider themselves middle class. But here I am continually offered food, people giving of the little they have we will say, and I just have not experienced that in the States. And if and when I have, I have not noticed it. I am not looking for it consciously or subconsciously in the States. Of course it exists but my passions have never taken my there. And too, I am sure pieces of what I experience here are culturally influenced, but I want to believe it is something universal too. At this point, I am not sure what all that means, but I feel part of the thought has been brought on by the existentialist within me.
I hesitate to share specific stories for the fear of putting too much meaning into them. That is the existentialist wrestling with the piece in me that belives in meaning and interconnectedness and purpose. But I have always been one to be able to connect things and universalize them, to show that love and joy are transcedent of time, history and culture. Partly because I believe in a God that created the opportunity for the same love and joy to be experienced today that was experienced at the begining of mankind. It is one of the reason I think God made nature so beautiful and the stars cover the earth. Hills in Ecuador could be similar to those in Italy or some other nation and still inspire similiar joys and awes in people who might very well never meet. Regardless, there are beautiful things happening everyday, everywhere. Despite the pain and hurt that exists, and mans perpetuation of suffering by deny others love, I believe good things happen. We have to look for them, but not force them.
And this leads me to another piece. At this point in my life, I cannot ¨give up¨ everything to make the world more just and true. For example, I enjoying going out, I enjoying spending money for a soccer game, and I am genuinely filled by them on different levels at this point. At the same time, it doesn´t mean that I am not hurt when after going to a soccer game I see a homeless man laying on carboard on a street. And I think, if I am not going to do something big (in part because I can´t right now, but also because I just don´t know how to affect and change the ¨system¨) what can I do? And I guess it is ¨small¨ things which are rooted in love. Conversation and dignity given to someone by looking them in the eye and not turning away. And while not making others dependent on you, I am going to try and remember to have extra change on me for food, or food itself, in the event I cross paths with someone in hunger or need. We will see, I am learning everyday that I choose to be open, and am trying not to burn out while loving and understanding why it is that fellow friends I have not met hurt so much and things are going well for me. I believe suffering to be rooted in people, and its cause rooted in a lack of faith, but I just don´t know if it will ever make full sense in this lifetime...
Despite the heavy thoughts, things are good. It is easy to feel uncomfortable here because we get a lot of special treatment from locals. We are invited to farms and are hugged by kids everywhere. But kids are not running up to fellow Ecuadorians for hugs or being invited by neighbors to their farms. Not that I have seen anyway. Patrick and I have spoken of this a little. But it would be nice to see a hospitality shared to all people regardless of culture. Of course, chances are I will never see a purly Ecuadorian encounter because unless I am spying, I will be visible and an influence on the interaction. Not to say it is not pure and genuine, but it is unique when there is someone from out of town in the room.
And so I sign off writing far more than I would have hoped because I know these things can get tiring to read. But for what it is worth, I still believe, today anyway, that things are connected, have meaning and are of importance. And it is just as the Little Prince ends...what does it matter if the sheep ate the rose? It could mean nothing, and it could mean everything....for the Little Prince and for me too, today its everything.
Peace and love amigos!
Monday, September 10, 2007
Santiago Ate Guinea Pig!
Hello friends, how are you? Thank you for reading and sorry it took a while to write again. Things in Ecuador have been going well and I am finally truly finding a groove here. I am still waking at 7 for morning prayer with my other six community members and getting to bed at a decent hour at the end of the day. But! enough small talk, let´s enlarge the conversation!
The weekend of September 1 and 2 I went with Patrick, Scott and Jessie to our friend Ararcely´s house in the mountains. Aracely is one of two Ecuadorians who work with Rostro as guides during retreat groups. Ara is 21 now and spends most of her time in our community of Arbolito. So the five of us set out on Friday night to her home in the hills of the province of Tungurahua. Her family´s town, Pilco, is near Mocha, which is close to the capital of Ambato.
We left Friday at 10:45pm and bought a one way six hour bus fare for $6. At about 4:30am we were dropped off on the base of a hill. From there we walked about a half hour up a rock road to get to her home, and at 5am, work her family. It was great. And FREEZING! We were close to 9,000ft above sea level, as opposed to here in Arbolito where we are at 15 feet. Haha anyway, we had a great weekend.
Five of us slept for 2 hours in two beds. We woke up and took the car farther up the hill to milk cows which was sweet. We had a little taste too, and let me tell you, it is much warmer when it comes right out of the cow. The rest of the morning we spent eating breakfast and preparing lunch. The menu: potatos and guinea pig!
Yes, guinea pig. The dish is a delicacy for the indigenous of Ecuador in the mountains...and so we bought live guinea pigs and yes, killed them (sorry if that upsets you, if you want to know how I did it, let me know and I´ll email you) then skinned them, gut them and grilled them. They were declicious! Somewhat like chicken but saltier. So we had a great lunch, when walking through the foggy mountainside, played a little volleyball and then got dinner ready. We ate and were in bed by 8pm asleep by 10pm.
Sunday then was a great day too. We woke up and had cheese empanadas, pretty much bread fold over itself and filled with cheese and then prepared to climb a huge mountain which had a cross on the top. The story goes that there was a cross placed on this mountain, decades ago, about 10,000ft about sealevel, near a lake. But when people went to visit it, they would drown in the lake. THe locals said it was controled by a bad spirit, others just thought people didn´t know how to swim. Anyway, early in Pope JP IIs time, he along with a large group of priests from the US and Ecuador moved the cross farther up the mountain, to the crest. So we treked a similar root through the deep fog and brush (because of the fog you just couldn´t see much around the mountainside) and found the cross, which had a windmill attached to it...but it was more like a pinwheel. Anyway, it was incredibly beautiful. The ground was moist and sponging, like walking on a moon walk but more firm and it last 2 hours uphill, just wonderful. It was all very green and very serene.
We made our way home, then to the bus terminal, an hour away, and headed home, arriving just after midnight. It was a great weekend which lead to a fantastic week. I made more friends here in the neighborhood and ate some sausage and french fries off a street vendor and still feel great. I have been quite fortunate with my health thus far and have not been sick for more than a day in the six weeks I have been here.
That is about it from this neck of the woods, because I have to get going but three more thigns. They have these reverse tricycles here, with two wheels in the front, connected by a plank of wood, used to transport propane tanks, water, appliances or kids. I drove one the other day and while it was hard to manuever, it was cool. Also, two of our guards, who live near the house, next door actually, are both building second floors to the cement homes. I have been helping them a little bit every now and then and it is sweet! I now know how to make a cement floor and support beams. And finally, just three years ago Ecuador was rated as the most corrupt nation in the world...who knew. I am still learning.
Ok amigos, i am sending my love and peace. Thanks for reading, and for your love and prayers!
Santi
The weekend of September 1 and 2 I went with Patrick, Scott and Jessie to our friend Ararcely´s house in the mountains. Aracely is one of two Ecuadorians who work with Rostro as guides during retreat groups. Ara is 21 now and spends most of her time in our community of Arbolito. So the five of us set out on Friday night to her home in the hills of the province of Tungurahua. Her family´s town, Pilco, is near Mocha, which is close to the capital of Ambato.
We left Friday at 10:45pm and bought a one way six hour bus fare for $6. At about 4:30am we were dropped off on the base of a hill. From there we walked about a half hour up a rock road to get to her home, and at 5am, work her family. It was great. And FREEZING! We were close to 9,000ft above sea level, as opposed to here in Arbolito where we are at 15 feet. Haha anyway, we had a great weekend.
Five of us slept for 2 hours in two beds. We woke up and took the car farther up the hill to milk cows which was sweet. We had a little taste too, and let me tell you, it is much warmer when it comes right out of the cow. The rest of the morning we spent eating breakfast and preparing lunch. The menu: potatos and guinea pig!
Yes, guinea pig. The dish is a delicacy for the indigenous of Ecuador in the mountains...and so we bought live guinea pigs and yes, killed them (sorry if that upsets you, if you want to know how I did it, let me know and I´ll email you) then skinned them, gut them and grilled them. They were declicious! Somewhat like chicken but saltier. So we had a great lunch, when walking through the foggy mountainside, played a little volleyball and then got dinner ready. We ate and were in bed by 8pm asleep by 10pm.
Sunday then was a great day too. We woke up and had cheese empanadas, pretty much bread fold over itself and filled with cheese and then prepared to climb a huge mountain which had a cross on the top. The story goes that there was a cross placed on this mountain, decades ago, about 10,000ft about sealevel, near a lake. But when people went to visit it, they would drown in the lake. THe locals said it was controled by a bad spirit, others just thought people didn´t know how to swim. Anyway, early in Pope JP IIs time, he along with a large group of priests from the US and Ecuador moved the cross farther up the mountain, to the crest. So we treked a similar root through the deep fog and brush (because of the fog you just couldn´t see much around the mountainside) and found the cross, which had a windmill attached to it...but it was more like a pinwheel. Anyway, it was incredibly beautiful. The ground was moist and sponging, like walking on a moon walk but more firm and it last 2 hours uphill, just wonderful. It was all very green and very serene.
We made our way home, then to the bus terminal, an hour away, and headed home, arriving just after midnight. It was a great weekend which lead to a fantastic week. I made more friends here in the neighborhood and ate some sausage and french fries off a street vendor and still feel great. I have been quite fortunate with my health thus far and have not been sick for more than a day in the six weeks I have been here.
That is about it from this neck of the woods, because I have to get going but three more thigns. They have these reverse tricycles here, with two wheels in the front, connected by a plank of wood, used to transport propane tanks, water, appliances or kids. I drove one the other day and while it was hard to manuever, it was cool. Also, two of our guards, who live near the house, next door actually, are both building second floors to the cement homes. I have been helping them a little bit every now and then and it is sweet! I now know how to make a cement floor and support beams. And finally, just three years ago Ecuador was rated as the most corrupt nation in the world...who knew. I am still learning.
Ok amigos, i am sending my love and peace. Thanks for reading, and for your love and prayers!
Santi
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