Saturday, February 27, 2010

Chocobananera

Bananera - the Spanish word for banana plantation.

My town is surrounded by them. The highway looks like it was just a strip of concrete laid in the middle of one of these. Machala, the provincial capital is known as the "Capital Bananera." On the road into Machala, there is a statue of a man carrying a racima (plant) of banana

Suffice it to say, the banana (and its cousin, the plantain) could be considered the corn to our Iowa. (Although I have never head the word "platnera" before to refer to a plantain plantation)

Just as equally ingrained in the local culture is the chocobanana - the frozen, chocolate-covered banana. Typically sold for ten cents, this is one of the most cost effective pick-me-ups. And for someone like me who prefers his chocolate mixed with some type of fruit, it is an ideal combination.

Now there, is a word for the chocolate-covered banana - chocobanana.

And there is a word for someone who works in a banana plantation - bananero.

But there is no word for the woman who sells the chocolate-covered bananas. I will change that.

I believe the proper term should be chocobananera.

I asked Google is this existed anywhere on the Internet. This is what it told me.



Slowly, I see this word making its way into the local idiolect. Most people with whom I have spoken with in the last couple weeks have heard me discuss this new word. But I'm still waiting for someone else to use the phrase without me prompting them.

This group of dedicated women (they are typically house moms who run a tienda out of their front room) do such a service to the community by providing this affordable goodness, that they deserve their own word.

Now we have one.

Please spread the word.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Is this Pamplona?

Earlier this afternoon, I was walking through town with about thirty kids from the newspaper daycamp we have going on.

The camp had just ended for the day and I'm walking toward the center of town. There are about ten kids ahead of me, ten next to me, and the rest behind. We are about five minutes from the central park when I heard some shrieking from the group ahead of me.

I look up to see the kids scattering in all directions.

Then, I look a little further up the road and see a bull charging our way. He's probably about a block from the first group of kids and a block and a half away from my group - and getting closer.

At this point, the kids are climbing trees, trucks, and walls to get out of the way. Before heading for shelter, I survey the situation a little to make sure that my kids are all right (What I would do if they weren't, I have no idea. There's a raging bull on the street. Handling this type of situation wasn't in the training manual. But as the supervisor, I felt like surveying the scene was the right thing to do.) I saw that no one had been gored and all the kids had scampered off to safety.

At this point, I kind of stared the bull down for a second to get a better sense of the situation (also, when else will I be able to stare down a raging bull). At this point, I had my escape route planned out: scurrying behind the truck parked on the side of the road. If the bull chose to follow me there, I would then defecate in my pants. Fool proof, I believe

In the second that I looked up the street to see what was happening, I noticed that a soldier from the nearby base had put a lasso around the bull's neck and was trying to pull him in. But instead, the bull was doing the majority of the pulling in this battle - dragging the soldier down the road. Then a police car arrived and began honking its horn at the commotion.

I then got behind the truck and saw that a bunch of my kids had the same idea (Good, this bull can't gore all of us, can he?).

I stood at the back of the truck with a view of the road to check if/when the bull would pass. A few seconds later, the bull came running down the street, dragging the soldier with him.

Once it was a safe distance past us, I checked to make sure everyone was all right. They were.

Then, we continued on our way.

I have learned to expect the unexpected throughout my Peace Corps experience, but an angry bull running through town - I don't think anyone could've predicted that.

Monday, February 22, 2010

No curling and no Costas make Ian maintain sanity

The Winter Olympics are going on.

You wouldn't know that if you lived in Arenillas.

Last week, I tried to explain curling to my friend and he said, "Oh, I get it. It's like hockey."

I was impressed that he knew about hockey. Most people here have trouble fathoming the idea of snow. So to have sports that require snow is very difficult.

Suffice it to say, the Ecuadorian networks don't devote all of their primetime coverage (or any of it, for that matter) to the Olympics). That would take away from the telenovelas. And I'm pretty sure there might be a massive uprising if that happened.

So life goes on. I've realized that.

In the States, I would be glued to the TV, watching every moment of cross country skiing that I could, complaining about how CBC doesn't carry the games anymore, analyzing every slalom run, etc. In short, I'd be obsessed.

In Arenillas, nothing's different.

Last night, the US beat Canada in hockey. Momentous. I tried watching it streaming over the internet. I had some initial luck with a Spanish-language stream (listening to hockey in Spanish is hilarious - el arquero está parando en su cabeza), but once that one went my Russian and Finnish streams didn't pan out so well. Hockey is a difficult sport to watch when the picture isn't clear.

So I decided to read about it in the morning. If I were in the States, there's no way I would have done that for that for the ski jump portion of the nordic combined, let alone US hockey's biggest game since the 2002 gold medal game.

But being here, missing the Olympics doesn't bother me. I've missed a season of Tigers baseball and Michigan football. And look, the sun still rises.

And the fact that I'm missing the country's once-every-four-years obsession with curling, that's another story altogether.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Can you please pass the cavity?

So I had shabbat dinner at my house last night.

It was outstanding - challah, mac and cheese, mashed sweet potatoes, steamed veggies, guacamole, aji (hot pepper sauce), and a mango-pineapple crisp.

It was probably one of the best meals I have cooked in my life (luckily, I made way too much food and will be able to enjoy that meal with several meals over the next couple of days).

With all of this delicious food, my guests needed a beverage to wash it down with. So they all chipped in and bought a big bottle of Coke.

Everybody poured their cup and started drinking except for one of my guests. This is where we pick up the action.

Guest: Do you have any sugar?
Ian: Yeah. Why?
Guest: I want to put some in my Coke.

After hearing this, I had no idea what to say. Stunned would be the proper way to describe my reaction as I got the sugar from my kitchen.

Keep in mind that Coke down here is made with real sugar.

I brought the sugar back, still completely baffled. Actually, it's a day later and I'm still trying to get over it.

She sweetened her Coke and continued with her meal.

Once I regained enough composure to inquire, I asked why she would put more sugar into her Coke. She explained that she did it to reduce the fizz. I did some Googling and learned that is a strategy some people use.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

That's not a vegetable

So I spent this afternoon playing with the neighborhood kids. When we were finished playing, a mom invited me over for dinner.

Before she even starts cooking, I give my standard I'm a vegetarian explanation, that it's not that I hate the culture or the meat (I really like both), it's just that I can't eat the meat for a religious reason.

I was very clear to explain that I don't eat any kinds of meat, that includes chicken. She said that she understands. She says that she rarely eats meat, maybe once a month.

She said not to worry about it. She was making noodles and rice (carbo-loading is very common around here, a daily occurrence for most). But as I watch her throw the chicken in one of the pots, I remind her about me being vegetarian.

She reassures me that she understands.

Well, she serves the first plate to me. Chicken and rice.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Ian, you've lived in Ecuador long enough to expect this kind of thing.

At this point, I wasn't the least bit surprised.

Then, she gave a plate of rice and noodles to her rson, without chicken. She explained that he can't eat any meat.

Actually, I probably shouldn't be surprised. I have learned to expect the unexpected.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Bess! Bees in the car ! Bees everywhere!



Aside from walking into a beehive on a playground when I was three, the bulk of my exposure to bees was Tommy Boy.

I thought their only utility was scaring bee-allergic policemen away from arresting you.

That was until last week, when I attended a nearly comprehensive, week-long beekeeping workshop in Riobamba (I wouldn't say completely comprehensive because using bees to avoid arrests wasn't covered). It was a great experience, and something that I look forward to exploring further.

The first thing the facilitators told us was the there wasn't a big demand for honey in Ecuador. I thought that was an odd way to start a conference about bees. Maybe they were already involved in the bee market and they didn't want anybody taking their market share. Or maybe they were telling the truth and there was really no market for honey in Ecuador.

So what were we doing there?

Well, it turns out that aside from honey production, bees produce several other products for human consumption and might be some of the best regulators of the environment. And they are some of the most fascinating creatures.

The first two days were spent in a classroom setting, covering the basics of safety, materials, management, problem-solving, and various health benefits. But for me, the most interesting session was about the pollination.

Somewhere around 90% of plants in the area need to be pollinated (well, there are plenty of pollinators, but bees are among the principal ones). They are integral in pollinating the native species and in maintaining the quality of the agricultural products as well. By pollinating the plants, they improve the quality of plants,o seed production, adaptability to the environment, and many other things. So even if one isn't producing honey, there are benefits to your crops or flowers to having the bees buzzing around.


The next day was spent in the field, visiting the hives to put in practice what we had been lectured on the day before. They recommended that we wear light colored clothing because bees associate dark clothes with the hives and feel as if you are invading their space. I don't really have any dark-colored long sleeves, so I turned my rain jacket inside out. Although I was making quite the fashion statement with my flipped rain coat, my friend made an even bolder one - pink rubber gloves.





He didn't plan on wearing them. He had bought them for his counterpart but when we were getting ready, it became clear the pink ones were too small for the counterpart. Luckily the bees weren't of the opinion that pink is the new black and left him unstung.

Overall, it was a relatively unpainful experience for the entire group. Just two people out of thirty were stung - even though the facilitators told us the bees were especially agitated.

After out practice, we learned about the various products that one can market. Bees produce a substance called propolisis that they put around their hive to prevent other animals from getting in. This substance can be used by humans to treat burns, increase fertility, might combat cancer, act as an antibiotic, ease bowel issues, cure some STDs, and protect your liver.

Another substance that the bees produce that can marketed is the royal jelly, what is used to feed queen bee larvae. It is believed to slow aging-related conditions (arthritis, baldness, decreased libido, heart disease, menopause, osteoporosis, high cholestorol, etc).

I felt that the conference gave me a great overview of beehive management. Now, I am excited to put it in practice and start some of that stuff at my site. I know of a few people near here who already have the hives going and will try to visit them very soon.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Las bestias

I showed up to a community meeting a few months ago and realized it would be a while before they would be ready to begin the meeting. I noticed that the kids outside were playing stickball. So my attention was obviously attracted to that.

It's not really stickball. It's more like piece-of-a-2-by-4 and a beaten up mini soccer ball.

I break the ice with a few questions, and I'm in the batters circle before I know it.

Hitting is not the strongest part of my stickball game. I don't know if I have registered a legitimate, round-first-base single in my last decade of playing softball. Combining that with a lack of great foot speed, and well you have an offensive liability.

So as the pitcher stares me down and gets his sign from the pitcher, my expectations are relatively low. The kids on the other look at me like I'm Babe Ruth, forget the fact that they have never heard of Babe Ruth before. Jaws are dropped. Eyes are wide open.

The first pitch I hit a grounder down what would be the third base line. The kids were very impressed, but I felt I could do better.

The next pitch was a bit low. I take a good cut at it but manage to hit a grounder down what would be the first base line.

The third pitch comes. I take a big swing and crush a fly ball to centerfield. The contact felt so good and pure. The ball sails over the street and into someone's yard. The kids start applauding, and I'm start asking the kids if we should go get the ball. They continued to applaud.

I was really surprised how little effort they were making at getting this ball back. It was as if they had already decided that this ball was gone. They would just have to wait for another day.

After this carried on for a few minutes, I ask why we can't get the ball. They say it's gone forever. Angry pigs live in the yard that I hit the ball into. Nobody goes in there and comes out unscathed. Plus, the pigs' owner isn't really nice. So that ball was gone.

I apologized profusely about losing their ball, and the kids said it didn't matter. That was the best hit they'd ever seen. I still felt horrible about it. I wondered if there was a way we could get that ball back.

I asked some people in my meeting. They confirmed that the pigs weren't supposed to be messed with, neither was their owner. Visions of the biggest pickle any of us had ever seen flashed through my head. But I realized that the ball was gone - plus it wasn't signed by The Babe. So it's much more replaceable.

And instead of just one beast that Henry Rodriguez had to outrun, this is an entire yard of angry pigs.

Monday, February 08, 2010

Rain delay

Last week, I presented the idea of a community bank to a neighborhood association in town.

About 35 people said they were interested and planned on attending the next meeting.

I showed up at the meeting on time and waited a half hour.

No one showed.

It had been steadily raining all day. And even though most of the participants live within a block of where the meeting was going to held, not a single person came by.

After waiting for a half-hour, I went to the president of the community to see what was going on. He said everyone in the area was excited about the meeting, but that no one will leave their house in the rain.

The popular notion around these parts is that if you go out in the rain, even for the shortest amount of time, you will come down with the flu.

We rescheduled for the next Saturday. Hopefully, it doesn't rain.

Saturday, February 06, 2010

The streets aren't safe

Be careful where you walk

Every time you leave your house, you have to be aware of your surroundings.

Keep an eye on every balcony. Carefully approach each corner.

Because lurking in the shadows is ...... a kid with a water balloon, ready to soak any unsuspecting passerby.

For the last few weeks, my town has been in a state of water war. As the country prepares for the Carnaval fiestas, the kids are gearing up for their favorite holiday tradition. Ecuadorian youth have been saving up their water balloon, silly string, water gun, and egg budgets for months.

The pre-Carnaval rush first caught my attention during the second week of January. I was selling newspaper ads with an eight-year old on our staff. We were leaving his house and walking toward the center, but as we left his front door he said we should go the other direction. This made no sense to me because center was not in that direction. But we walked a few houses down the street and he pulled a bag of water balloon from underneath a piece of heavy machinery. He's not allowed to keep them in the house, so he has to hide them.

Then, as we were walking through town, he pulled a balloon out of the bag and started filling it up on a spicket. He said that he would spend the next month throwing water balloons at girls. I told him that while we are selling ads out focus should be on the ads and that throwing the water balloons at girls could wait until afterwards. He actually contained himself really well until we were a block from his house. He had a balloon in his right hand and saw his neighbor walking down the street. He chose for the stealth approach and splashing it on her back (a preferred strategy in his neighborhood, but you don't see it to often in the center).

In the three weeks that have passed, the water war has only intensified. Kids have been gathering all the loose change they can find to buy necessary armaments.

In our newspaper meeting last week, the girls looked like they were afraid of one of our other staff members. I asked them what the problem was and they told me that he throws eggs at them. At first, I thought that was ridiculous but that was naiveté.

It turns out that our staff member is also a member of an egg-throwing club from one of the neighborhoods in town. They operate one month out of the year and create panic among all the 11-15 year old girls in town.

Yesterday afternoon, more than a week before Carnaval, I was walking through town and it felt like a scene from The Hurt Locker. There was an eerie silence, as if your assailant could be lurking behind any door. Then, you hear a high-pitched scream and realize that two boys on a balcony had dropped a bucket of water on two unsuspecting girls walking below.

As the holiday actually approaches, the kids will continue with the water war but will also mix in some flour with the water attacks to leave a lasting impression. I went to my store yesterday to by flour to make challah and the woman told me that I should stock up on my flour before Carnaval hits and I won´t be able to find it anywhere.