Monday, August 15, 2011

Like a family

I went to my first Aucas game yesterday. The game ended in a 2-2 tie. Aucas kept its hopes of advancing to the next level in the classification alive, but that wasn't the real story for me.

I have never gone to a stadium before and felt like the entire crowd was one big family.

This was unexpected.

My friends and I bought tickets in the $5 general admission section and took some seats in the bleachers on the south end of the field. I sat next to an older gentleman and his family.



I don't really remember starting a conversation with him or even saying hi. We just kept following the rhythm of the games together. We would cheer when the team got close to scoring and then berate the forward when he failed to convert what seemed like an obvious goal. When the ref would blow an obvious foul, we would be standing up questioning his judgment.

Slowly, we started to exchange a few more words. About 20 minutes into the game, he poured me some water from a bottle he was sharing with is wife and daughter. Then I called Aucas's first goal off of a free kick, and my neighbor was really impressed.

Then came halftime. I was all ready to head back to my friends' seats to see what they thought of the first half when my neighbor and his family start giving me a full plate of corn and fava beans they had brought to the game. Then even offered some pork, but I kindly declined.

It turns out that my neighbor has been an Aucas fan his entire life, goes to every game, and sits in the same seat. He even makes it out to the road games to cheer on his team. He goes to the games with his wife and daughter and knows most of the people sitting around him.

I told him that I was a Peace Corps Volunteer, and he started into a story about a volunteer he knew in Quito about a decade ago. We sat there chatting throughout the halftime, and I kept thinking to myself "Did I really just get a lunch from the people sitting next to me at the soccer stadium?" At the end of halftime, he gave me some fruit juice to wash down the lunch with and get ready for the second half of action.

We kept up the conversation through the ups and downs of the second half. (Aucas really should have won the game. They hit the post twice and had many more near goals. But in soccer, the only statistic that matters is on the scoreboard.) At the end of the game, I thanked him profusely for the hospitality, and we parted way. I didn't get his name, but I know exactly where to find him at any Aucas home game.



The amazing thing is that I feel like this could have happened anywhere in the stadium. Aucas's stadium is also known as La Caldera (The Cauldron). It is a place where people from anywhere in Quito can come together, putting aside their differences, and get behind their beloved Aucas.

Maybe I'm romanticizing this a bit too much. Maybe I just had great luck and sat next to a really hospitable gentleman and his family.

But it seemed like everyone in the stadium knew each other. Just walking down the street or around the stadium, it looked like a disproportionate amount of people knew each other. Maybe this what happens when the same group of 5,000 people goes to the games over the period of 30 years.

S.D. Aucas hit the peak of its popularity in the 70s.

Since then, the club hasn't had too much celebrate. In the meantime, every other team in Quito has at least qualified for continental tournaments and challenged for the national championships.

As a result, Aucas has struggled to attract new fans. So the same people have been going to the games since then. They are almost all over the age of 50.

Most of them are wearing the same shirt and hat they wore to games in the 80s, and they probably all sit in the same seats.

As I mentioned in yesterday's blog, I don't know if I can make Aucas "my team," but it is nice to know that I can go to a game and feel part of a family.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

The Idle of Quito



When it comes to professional football and soccer, I am always attracted to the most pitiful, pathetic teams. Whether it be the Lions of Detroit or Condor from Arenillas, I can't escape them.

This must be why I felt an immediate attraction to the S.D. Aucas in Quito.

Aucas has been one of the most popular teams in Quito for decades but has never won the national championship. It's main rival, Liga de Quito, has won the national championship 10 times and several continental titles.

Aucas is currently in the lowest possible divisions, the equivalent of the league Club Deportivo Condor plays in. (The way soccer works is if you are the worst team in the league, you get relegated to a lower league). It has been out of the top division for five years and out of the second division for two.

The club's glory days were from 1945-1951 when it won six provincial championships. People still talk about these teams — much like people still talk about the Lions' glory days from the 50s. Its popularity from the 50s-70s earned it the nickname Idolo de Quito (Idol of Quito). But since the 70s, Aucas's poor management and mediocrity (at best) have allowed other teams in Quito to thrive.



The team was founded by the Shell oil company in 1945, and the then-president of Shell wanted to name the team "Shell." The soccer federation didn't let him, so he chose the name Auca, which means indigenous warriors (They still adopted the red and yellow color scheme of Shell). The team's logo features a depiction of an auca. The team has since experienced many management changes over the years and is now referred to as the Ex-petroleros (former oilmen).

Will I become an Aucas fan? I don't think it will become "my team," but that doesn't mean I can't feel sympathy for their story and hope that they return to prominence in Ecuadorian soccer.

I went to the Aucas game yesterday and will post about it tomorrow (I know people these days don't like to read too much text in one sitting).

Tuesday, August 09, 2011

Godfather

While I was home in May, one of my good friend's from Arenillas gave birth to a daughter.

Since returning to Quito, I had been trying to make the time to go visit my friend and meet the baby. I finally found the time a couple of weekends ago and returned to my beloved town for a couple of days.

Sarah and I headed to the border town of Huaqillas on Sunday morning to see Rosa and the baby. (Sarah still lives in the area and has already spent some time with the baby. She actually had the honor of being the first person to cut the baby's nails and is looking forward to giving the baby her first hair cut.)

We arrived at Rosa's in-laws' house, where she is currently living, and sat down in the living room to catch up. It had been more than three months since I last saw Rosa, so there was a lot to talk about. I wanted to hear all about the baby, while she wanted to hear about my vacation back home and life in Quito.

I took my turn holding the baby until she started to cry, at which point I delegated holding responsibilities to Sarah, who calmed the baby down in a matter of seconds.



After a few minutes of sitting around, everybody in the house started organizing for some activity. They prepared a bowl, a blanket, and a cup of water. I had no idea what was going on.

Then I realized that they were preparing for a baptism - surprise!!

Sarah had mentioned that Rosa asked if we could be godparents of water Andrea Victoria. But there was absolutely no indication that any kind of ceremony would happen on this visit. Because of some logistical issues, it wasn't even certain that I would have a chance to see Rosa on this visit.

This was an informal baptism, done in the comforts of the living room instead of the church. The godparents of water are seen as more of a role model for the child's moral upbringing, instead of providing for the child when the family needs it. Oftentimes in Ecuador, the godparents are seen as responsible for the child's religious upbringing. But Rosa knows that I'm Jewish, so I foresee no added responsibility.

Representing good values is something I could try to do.

Here is a video that someone from Rosa's in-laws' family took. Below you will find a play-by-play to explain what is happening in the video.



This ceremony does not require a priest to be present. You really just need someone who has done the ceremony before, so they called over some neighbors who have several children (and, therefore, some experience).

The ceremony began by reciting Ave Maria (Hail Mary) and Padre Nuestro (Our Father). Apparently you are not supposed to say "Amen" after reciting this blessing. And if someone does say "Amen," you have to repeat the blessing again. This explains why the blessing is repeated a few times.

Afterwards, the one of the godparents pours the water on the baby's head while the other crosses the baby in the name of the Holy Trinity. The crossing was Sarah's department. I was in charge of water pouring (notice how the baby didn't cry). Then the godparents blow out the candle.

Once everything is complete, the godparents take pictures with the baby and everyone present. The original video clip went on for three more minutes, but the last three minutes were just pictures. So I figured I could include some of the still shots instead.

Just a side note: I must be the only person in history to perform the function of godfather while wearing a "Callahan Auto Parts" t-shirt. It's not that I thought it was an appropriate t-shirt for the occasion. I was completely unaware that the ceremony was going to take place. If I had known, I would have at least worn something with a collar.

Because the Andrea was born prematurely and had some health issues, her parents took their time in giving her a name. So in the meantime, Sarah and some other people in town gave her the nickname Ugita. Rosa works for the UGA (Unidad de Gestion Ambiental), so she was the little member/mascot of the UGA.



Godparents, real parents, and Andrea



Godparents and Andrea