Speech notes

Yesterday morning, I gave a speech at my synagogue in West Bloomfield about my two years of service in Peace Corps Ecuador. For those of you who could not make it or would like to relive the experience, I have pasted the notes I used during the speech below.

I hope to continue to update my blog about my visit back home. I have been home for a week and have plenty of blog-worthy material to post. The issue has been finding time (I guess I could have eliminated this afternoon's siesta to blog a bit, but it was very necessary.)

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Depending on weather: "It's a good thing that rain stopped. Because if this were Ecuador, people don't leave there house during the rain. No one would have showed. No minyan."

Shabbat shalom con todos y todas presente, Les agredezco por la oportunidd de compartir mis experiencias con ustedes.

So you think this would work better in English? Luckily I also printed up an English edition as back up.

Thank rabbi for giving me the opportunity to address the congregation this morning. It feels good to be back home, even though it might be a different house.

This week we have been talking about the Jewish people's 40-year journey from slavery to freedom. It was an epic journey with its ups and downs, with its wonders and difficulties. But at the end of the trek through the desert, we emerged as a different nation, one ready to face the challenges associated with independence. And these experiences built the character traits that continue to maintain us as a people.

We are all on journeys - as individuals, as a community, as a nation.

I would like to talk to you this morning a bit about the journey I have been on the last two and half years in Peace Corps Ecuador.

When I joined the Peace Corps in February 2009, I knew that it would be an experience unlike anything I had ever done. It seemed like an incredible opportunity to give back and put in practice the ideals of tikun olam
Opportunity for personal growth, greater perspective, learn another language

For those of you who might be very familiar with Peace Corps...
Agency started by John F. Kennedy in 1961 to promote world peace, sending Americans to countries in the developing world to provide technical and engage in a cultural exchange. It currently operates in 77 countries.

Natural resource conservation volunteer placed in a small coastal city of 17,000 in southern Ecuador, very close to the border with Peru
It is an agricultural town, whose primary crop is banana
The area is known as the world banana capital
Celebrate the fruit every year with the world banana festival
I worked with the local municipality in the office of environmental management
Tree nursery, gardening, environmental education, community bank, and recycling program. I also worked extensively with youth groups.

I have just now finished my two years and decided to extend my stay for another year and serve as Volunteer Leader. Instead of living in a small town, I will be based in the capital, Quito, working out of the Peace Corps office there.

As a Peace Corps volunteer, one is not there to impose solutions to the community's problems. Instead, one is supposed to work together with community members to identify those solutions.

If the process isn't participatory and the community doesn't take ownership over the project, it will not be sustainable. I saw countless examples of this in Ecuador, where people go in with great intentions but don't go about it the right way, and the initiative stalls out.

The idea is that volunteers empower the community to begin address some of its problems.

One initiative that I worked on is a community bank project, based on microfinance models made popular by Mohamed Yunus or C.K.Prahalad
• My counterpart agency was installing a running water project in an isolated community, about an hour and half from my house
• I had to take two buses and walk thirty-minute walk across three rivers to get there. The bus only ran twice a day. And in the rainy season, you could barely get there.
• It is a village of two families but thirty households

One day during a meeting of the water council, I talked to the members about what they thought were some needs of the community. As a small community, it was difficult for them to ask for a lot of resources from the government. So any initiative they wanted to undertake had to come from their limited resources.

They mentioned that a nearby community had started a kind of community bank, and the idea really interested them. I explained to them how the bank works. We started with two informational meetings to explain how it functions. The third week we elected the administrative committee that would be in charge of running meetings. The members write the constitution that will govern their bank. Because it is their institution, they have to decide up the by-laws

People are concerned for the security of their belongings in Ecuador, even in a village with two families. The community bank box has three different sets of keys and locks. The box itself is kept in the house of a fourth person so members can trust the safety of their deposits.

At the fourth meeting the members made their first deposits to the bank. After four weeks of deposits, they can start loaning out the money. These microloans, worth no more than $100 dollars have to be paid back within a month plus a small interest rate of 5% to 10%. The principal and the interest get returned to the box to be loaned out to the other members.

At the end of the bank's fiscal year, they divide up the contents of the box among the membership. That way the members would enjoy the benefits of savings in addition to the access to credit that they received throughout the year.

The bank is now on its third year and has 70 members.

While starting this bank was a beneficial experience for the community, I also found it quite rewarding and humorous.

Because of the bus schedule, I was forced to spend the night there every time I went for a meeting. One week I brought a frisbee to play with kids. Most people don't know what a frisbee is. They really enjoyed playing with the disc, but not in the traditional sense of "playing frisbee." One of the three-year olds in the village took his machete (yes, three year olds have their own machetes) and chopped a few holes in the frisbee, making it much less aerodynamic.

One week a self-proclaimed archeologist randomly showed up in our office. No one really knew what he was doing in town, but he charmed everyone with his stories of hidden treasure and convinced my office that on the way to the community bank meeting one night, we should stop at some guy's house and search for gold. We drive up to this shack, the archaeologist pulls out two copper rods that he used like a Ouija. He asks the rods a question and, depending on the way the rods move, he decides where to search. They spent a few hours digging and didn't find an tangible gold, but I found plenty of comic gold.

On the rare occasion that the municipality would give me a ride up to the bank meeting, more often than not, the thirty-year old jalopy would stall out on the road and we'd have to call another car from town to come pick us up. One time the car stalled only if we turned on the headlights. So we used my headlamp and cell phone flashlight to guide us home.

In addition to the bank, I worked with my counterpart agency on solving some of my town's numerous waste management issues. Local governments in Ecuador want to have smooth-running waste management collection operations that separate between organics and inorganics and also separate out recyclable materials so that they don't have to put as much in the limited space available in landfills.

The problem is that changing this culture is a long process. In Ecuador, the first instinct when someone has a piece of garbage is to throw it on the ground or out the window of the bus. Once, it came back through my window and hit me in the face. The first instinct when they have a lot of garbage is to make a pile and light it on fire. My neighbors liked to add gasoline to their daily 6:00 a.m. garbage fire. I assume that was for a bigger flame.

Because the city budget was a mess and trying to allocate a lot of funds for a big-time waste-management project was impossible, I worked with my counterparts to identify small-scale solutions to the problem. They thought that we had the resources to implement a municipal recycling program. We would locate recycling bins throughout the city, and residents would deposit their recyclables there — instead of burning them or throwing them in a field outside of town. We created posters and pamphlets to promote the project and recorded ads for the local radio station.

The bins were supposed to have been installed last October. But there were some unforeseen delays.

For example, the bins were painted with a kind of paint that would rust in the rain, so we had to get them all repainted. But it took a month to find someone who would paint the bins. Then the municipality delayed its payment and thought its own people could paint the bins. They were wrong.

Then, the local fiestas happened. The municipality went back to its initial contractor but continued to delay its payment. Then Christmas happened. Then they finally freed up some money to pay the contract, and the bins were finally painted at the end of January. Except that those bins were only painted one color — no one put letters indicating what could be deposited in which bins.

Last month, they finally put the bins around town. The radio ads have hit the airwaves. They were supposed to start the street-level promotional activity tomorrow, but then realized it was Easter Sunday and will probably start that work next week.

While all of these delays were happening, I was working with local schools, teaching students and teachers about the benefits of recycling. Working with my counterpart and another Peace Corps Volunteer, we developed a curriculum for teaching students about recycling. We hosted a recycling contest in two local schools, which my parents helped with when they visited, and gave a workshop to teachers and school staff about how the recycling program functions so that they can teach the students how it works. We had also planned to give similar instructional sessions to local government workers and student governments at the high schools.

I also worked extensively with local youth. I helped them start a community magazine. Working with thirty high school students and another Peace Corps Volunteer, we produced a magazine that talked about some of the positive community projects happening in Arenillas. The youth made seven editions in the first year and are now starting a television show.

At first, many were skeptical about whether or not the high schoolers could pull it off. It was that doubt that motivated our students. One of our journalist's dads told her, before we made the first edition, "Are you kidding me? Kids can't start newspapers."
They proved him wrong.

In addition to the technical exchange, Peace Corps emphasizes the cultural exchange between volunteers and Ecuadorians. Ecuador is more than 90% Catholic. Most Ecuadorians have never met a Jew before.

When I first moved there and was living with a host family, my host dad's first response when I told him I was Jewish was "oh, yeah. Like the raid on Entebbe? Very cool."

One of my favorite ways to share Jewish culture is through food. Every Friday night I would cook shabbat dinner for my friends and coworkers. It is my favorite time of the week in the States, and I wanted it to be that way in Ecuador, too. I would make challah, kugel, knishes, babka, matzah ball soup, pita, hummus, tabouli, mandel brodt, and shakshuka. (sorry to be talking about this stuff in the heart of Passover),

My friends liked the food so much they came back every week. Some of them even asked for the recipes. One day I went to my friend's house and her three-year old son was eating dinner. He had on his plate rice, chicken, and something else. I asked him, "Pierrro, what are you eating?" (but in Spanish, of course)

"Se llama kugel" (It's called kugel)

Not all experiences with Jewish cultural foods worked out so well. During shavuot my first year I baked a cheesecake to share with my coworkers. I offered it to a number of my friends to try, and they enjoyed it. The garbagemen, though, spit it out in my face. Cheesecake must be an acquired taste

While being a sole practitioner has is downsides, there some aspects that aren't that bad.

For example, my yom kippur services were about nine hours shorter than usual. Feel free to join me next year, but only up to eight people are allowed. If that happens, we'd probably have to start another non-minyan.

Last Passover, I had a very special guest. Adam Baruch was travelling through South America and visited me. He ate shabbat dinner at my house, helped me clean jametz, and we went to seders with the Jewish community in Quito - a 12-hour bus ride from my site.

The Quito Jewish community has 400 members, three rabbis, two synagogues, and two shokhets that don't recognize each other's hashkakhah. With my job being based in Quito next year, I look forward to become more active in - if only for kiddush luncheon.

Now I don't want to hold you up much longer before your kiddush luncheon - or today's modified kiddush. If you have any questions, you can find me by the dried fruit.

Shabbat shalom and jag sameaj - two j's. Think about it.

You failed, and the whole town knows it

D+!!!!! Oh my God .... I passed! I passed!!!!! Oh, man!! I got a D+! I'm gonna graduate!!!!

(Hug random Asian kid)

I wish we'd known each other. This is a little awkward.

Similar scenes to this one from the beginning of Tommy Boy happened all over the Ecuadorian coast this week*.

*Except instead of hugging a random Asian kid they might have hugged a random squinty-eyed Ecuadorian whose nickname will forever be Chino.

Schools in the coast run on a different calendar than those in the sierra and oriente. The highlands and jungle school year is very similar to the United States (September through June), while the coastal school year run from April through January. I believe that the different schedules exist to offset for climate* and the harvest schedule**.

* Not even the teachers would show up for work in the rain.
** Youth had to help their families on the farm.

Whereas Marquette University put a list of all the students and their grades on the wall, schools here only posted a list of students who failed and will be held back a year. There is no number system to hide a student's identity. The school puts up the kids full name. If you failed, everyone knows about it.

If a student fails one subject, he or she has to repeat the entire academic year in the same grade. It doesn't matter if a student does well in every other subject, he or she will have to repeat the entire year.

Students are given the opportunity to retake an exam if they fail it the first time around.

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As you know, I will take any opportunity to cite Tommy Boy that I can. I was really looking for a way to put "D+ isn't a grade they like to give out, I'll tell you that much" into the post but was only able to find space for it here, at the end, below the divider line.

And that's how you build a fence...

Last time we left off with my cactus fence, I had been attacked by some hornets, and the fence was non-existent.

Well, we have since decided to switch directions, in terms of cactus.

The previous species of cactus that we had used for the fence grew straight up. We are now using a kind of cactus that grows out horizontally. This should be much more effective as a fence.



As you can see from the picture, no sane or sober person would think of crossing that fence of cactus. Luckily, this species of cactus is just as easy to propagate as the other one. All you have to do is stick a piece of the cactus in the ground and, voila, you got yourself another cactus plant.



The owner of this fence was nice enough to let us use the cacti he had pruned off of his fence as starter seed for our own. So Saturday morning we rented a pick-up truck and filled the bed with cactus.



Then we planted the cactus along the border of the forest we are hoping to protect.



The cactus should grow at a rate of about one meter per year, according to the other fence's owner's niece. So as long as the youth from the local high school take care of the cactus plants and don't decide to light them on fire (like some youth already decided to do) we should be describing the botanical gardens as some sort of impenetrable fortress in a few years.

PERUsing

I have returned from an adventure in the land of Peruvian flute bands.

Disappointingly, and ironically, I didn't see any of those musical groups.

But despite its lack of flute bands on every corner, I greatly enjoyed my ten-day journey from Lima back to Arenillas. (For a more detailed account of my travels, continue reading below the slideshow)



The following map illustrates my itinerary from Lima back to Arenillas (keep in mind that the my house is not drawn to scale).



(This was not my first time traveling in Peru. In between my senior years of college, I backpacked from Quito to Rio de Janeiro. During that trip, I spent nearly a month in Peru and had the opportunity to see some of the more traditional tourist destinations.)

Lima

This was my second time in Lima. I was using Lima as more of a launching pad in this trip than anything else. Lima doesn't offer too much in terms of tourism, and I had covered the main sights in my first visit. I arrived in time for New Year's Eve and was able to bring in the new year with fellow travelers at our hostel in the Miraflores neighborhood of Lima.

We ventured out to a seaside park and shopping center (with plenty of bars and night life). At 2:00 a.m., the place was still full of people of all ages bringing in the new year. There were families with little children, senior citizens, and young people. It was pretty fascinating to see.

The next day, it felt like the entire city was recovering from a hangover (because it was). The streets were dead until noon. I had to change some money to buy a bus ticket for the following day and had a lot of trouble finding a money changer at 11:00 a.m. in a city that is normally teaming with people who will readily change dollars to soles.

I spent the afternoon watching college football at a sports bar. After the game, I randomly bumped into a fellow Peace Corps volunteer from Ecuador, who I had no idea was going to be in Lima. She was heading off to Cuzco and Machu Picchu the next day, so we went out for dinner that night.

On Sunday January 2nd, I played the role of tour guide, leading a group of Swedish students on a little stroll through downtown Lima (Bite-sized Three Musketeers included). Lima is such an old city and has so many different building styles because fires and earthquakes have leveled portions of the cities in different eras. So it is not unusual to see old buildings from different generations next to each other.

Chiclayo

That night, I headed northward along the coast to the city of Chiclayo. The area is rich in archaeological ruins and museums. It is also reputed to have one of the largest street markets in all of Latin America (The market even has a witchcraft section).

I was interested in visiting the dry tropical forest reserve of Bosque de Pomac because the ecological reserve near my site is dry tropical forest. I wanted to see how they have developed the tourism at this reserve to get some idea on how it might happen in Arenillas. I learned that the big attracting in the reserve are some pre-Incan pyramids that were used as burial sites for the kings. (They have yet to discover such important archaeological ruins in the reserve in Arenillas, so I guess the tourism will just have to wait.) I thought the forest was really interesting. There were some trees in the forest that were more than 500 years old.

In the afternoon, I wandered through the giant street market. I love street markets. I especially enjoy hunting for one specific product in a maze of tents selling anything you can imagine. Luckily, I arrived at the Chiclayo street market with a certain product in mind.

When I was backpacking through South America on my previous trip to Peru, I had purchased a soccer jersey for the club from Cuzco. I had seen the club play in person during an alternative spring break trip to Buenos Aires. Unfortunately, I had lost my jersey on the beach in Rio de Janeiro.

So I set about finding a replacement jersey at the market in Chiclayo. It didn't take nearly as long as many of my other ventures through street markets (e.g. sesame seeds, nutmeg, white carrot, Wrestlemania III), but it was exciting, nonetheless.

Chachapoyas

In 2007, Chachapoyas was barely on the tourism map. The only way to access the principal attraction — The Kuelap Fortress — was to trek for several days across the valleys to reach it. For someone with plenty of time on his or her hands, that was a great adventure. But it was also the only attraction in the area.

Now, the area boasts one of the world's tallest waterfalls. I know what you are thinking. How does that happen? Can a waterfall just appear overnight? I'm not an expert in waterfall creation, so I couldn't tell you the answer.

In 2006, a German guy measured the height of Gocta Falls at 773 meters, which makes it the third highest waterfall in the world. Apparently, the locals had known about the falls all along, but they thought it was haunted, so they didn't bother to tell anyone about it.

Now you can take day trips to the Kuelap fortress and the Gocta Falls, which is exactly what I did. I spent another day hiking to a nearby artisan village.

Mancora

The north coast of Peru has a reputation for being a top surf destination. Apparently it boasts one of the world's longest left-hand breaks. As a non-surfer, I don't really appreciate that fact, but you might. One result of these waves is that surfing and beach towns dot the coastal highway. The biggest of them is Mancora.

I'm not much of a beach guy myself. I prefer to be moving around. But I had a couple of days before my vacation ended, and Mancora is on the road back to Ecuador. So I figured I would stop there. The town has a big party scene. Luckily, I was staying at a hostel on the outskirts of town and met some similarly laid-back, not-so-into-the-party-scene backpackers. So I passed a couple of lazy days in Mancora before taking the bus back to Arenillas.

It took about four hours to travel from Mancora to Arenillas, and I was really excited to make the trip because I like the idea of traveling with a final destination in mind (as opposed to looping back to where I started from). Plus, I often go to the border town of Huaquillas, which 20 minutes from my house, to get t-shirts made or to buy soccer jerseys (there will be an upcoming post about all the jerseys I have bought) but I had never gone through the full border crossing. All of the travel books say that it is a horrible border crossing. I went through it without any problems and got back to my house safe and sound.

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(In total, I was on vacation for nearly three weeks. I spent the first week and a half in Panama with my family. We saw some impressive sites and did had some great adventures. But more than anything it was really special to be able to share the experience with everybody. I hope to put some photos up from that part of the trip, but I have had some photo-sharing difficulties.)

Es la estación

I guess " ´tis the season" sounds better in English than Spanish.

My neighbors just finished their third consecutive night of caroling, each night is progressively more rocking than the previous.

Tonight's most popular song was "Navidad." The lyrics, to the tune of Jingle Bells, are as follows "Navidad. Navidad. Navidad. Navidad."

Catchy, eh.

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This afternoon we had the office gift exchange. On Dec. 1, we held an office-wide meeting to set the parameters for the exchance.

It would take place on Monday, Dec. 20 at noon. Everyone was informed. We all drew names out of a hat. Price limit was $5.

I drew our office's secretary. I had had several conversations with her about how she wanted to read more books, except that she didn't have any. I went to a book store last week and bought Charlie and the Chocoloate Facotry, Old Man and the Sea, and The Alchemist.

I showed up at the office today at 12:15 ready for the exchange, knowing that it wouldn't start on time.

Ian: What time are we going to do the exchange?
Co-worker: Noon.
Ian: It's already 12:15.
Co-worker: I know. We all have to go buy our presents first.

They all proceed to leave the office and go to the gift store down the street for presents before meeting back at a restaurant for an office Christmas party.

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The Christmas decorations that you see at the top of this post were made by my co-workers. They spent an entire week decorating the office for Christmas.

Dating

According to a horribly unscientific Google search, there are five streets in the United States named after the 4th of July.

On the other extreme, every city in Ecuador with labeled streets has several streets that mark watershed dates in their heritage.

In Arenillas alone, there are at least two main streets and four neighborhoods commemorating important days in the calendar year (Streets: May 24, November 11; Neighborhoods: October 9, December 25, May 24, and November 11).

November 11 celebrates the anniversary of the county's independence. May 24 is the anniversary of the Battle of Pichincha. October 9 marks Guayaquil's independence. December 25 is Christmas.

This is common throughout the country and Latin America, and definitely something that we missed out on in the U.S. (I know that in Israel there is November רחוב כט, but I don't recall that every city has streets named after famous dates)

Every city in Michigan, for example, could have January 26 St. to remember that on January 26, 1837, Michigan achieved its statehood. A main thoroughfare in Detroit would be named July 24 because the city was founded on July 24, 1701.

It would be a great way for people to remember a bit of local history, as well. I guarantee that every person in Arenillas could tell you that Arenillas was founded on November 11, 1955. Do you know on which date your city was founded?

But this trend of naming things after important dates extends beyond streets and neighborhoods. One of my volunteer friends adopted a cat a few days ago and named it 14 de Diciembre (December 14).

I haven't seen this trend expand into the naming of children yet, but how could you forget someone's birthday if it was his or her first name?

Apocalypse now?

A guy got on the CIFA bus last week and claimed that the apocalypse was upon us.

I understand that this is completely normal on public transportation all over the world, but this was the first time I came across "end of the world is upon us" guy on the CIFA.

As soon as the bus pulled out of my town heading toward Machala, he told the bus driver to cue some doomsday music on the bus stereo system. This was the first time I had seen someone hijack a bus speaker system for his shpiel.

With the mood set by a bouncy bus ride, Armageddon music, and the stench of urine, he began throwing out some quotes from the bible describing what will happen at the end of days.

He described chaos and torrential rains at the beginning of the end. He asked everybody on the bus if they have noticed that it was raining harder lately. Because we are experiencing the first hard rains of the winter season, everyone agreed that it was starting to rain.

Then the speaker said that from this destruction will come unity. He described how Belgium signed a peace treaty and merged with three countries in 1998. (I did some research on Belgian history. Either this guy is wrong or the Internet is wrong.)

Unfortunately, I had to get off the bus at this point and couldn't stay for the end of his talk and how, if you donated to him, one could mitigate the effects of the end of the world. I really to stay on to see how it would end, but I would have missed my stop and been forced to backtrack through some shady areas.

Bus vendors

"Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for interrupting your ride. I give you all the respect that you deserve..."

And so starts every bus shpiel in Ecuador.

From there, there is no telling what direction the vendor will go.

• You have the guys carrying a briefcase selling the health benefits of noni, claiming that it will cure cancer, gastritis, kidney problems, and chronic liver issues.

• Other guys will claim that this is the only way for them to make an honest living. They have decided to offer you the opportunity to buy some candy - at 300 percent the listed price. Sometimes they play up the "otherwise I would rob this bus" angle, while others say this is how they pay for their education.

• A guy goes on about the importance of learning languages before giving everyone the chance to buy an English-Spanish dictionary.

• I like the guy who passes through the bus giving out a pack of four DVDs or CDs to each passenger, allowing them the chance to look over the discs and different tracks, before he goes back to make the sale or recollect the unwanted discs. When he is handing out the discs, he takes a few seconds with each passenger to make you think that he is choosing those four discs especially for you.

Then there are the performers.

• My favorite musician is an old "guitar player"/"singer
/"songwriter" who rides the CIFA between Arenillas and Huaquillas. Now, I call him a "guitar player" instead of a guitar player because his guitar only has one string. I call him a "singer" instead of a singer because he is more of a whiner or bellower, not too much rhythm in his voice. He is a "songwriter" because most of his lyrics are just repeating the name of the city we are heading to.

If he ever made it onto YouTube, he would be a legend.

• A clown comedy troupe sometimes rides the local bus, making crude jokes and screaming in a really high-pitched voice.

• A one-man band also frequents the bus line from Santa Rosa to Machala. He is not that bad.

The amazing thing is that every single one of these guys cleans up every time they board a bus. There is some cultural phenomenon here where people will buy anything that is offered to them.

(Cleaning up in the sense that they make a lot of sales. Nobody cleans the buses here. Many buses have signs that tell passengers to throw garbage out the windows.)

Bananera: From plant to box

Have you ever wanted to know how bananas get from the farm to your breakfast table?



This will be the first part in what I hope will be a series of posts that will explain the process.

Not recommended

If you are looking for an IV or a vaccine in Arenillas, you could call this number (but you probably shouldn't).

A situation brewing

The main beer company in Ecuador has halted production of the two local beers - Pilsener and Club - after a court closed the factory

A judge ordered the company to make $90.6 million in back payments to former employees. Failure to make these payments meant an order to shut down production.

This has the makings of a major situation.

Ecuadorians love their Pilsener.

It is THE Ecuadorian beverage. When you ask for a beer here, it is Pilsener.

If you offer an Ecuadorian another brand of beer, they will tell you that it doesn't taste like beer because it isn't Pilsener. I have spoken to Ecuadorians who have spent time in the States and despite the variety of beers available in the U.S., they say nothing compares to a Pilsener.

I don't know what will happen if this situation is not resolved quickly. According to news reports, the brewery has three days reserve supply of beer.

After that, they're out.

I don't know how this situation will play out, but it will definitely be interesting to follow.

Don't fight with the garbagemen

My counterpart agency is in charge of garbage collection in town.

They have two rarely functioning vehicles to pick up trash from the county's 30,000 residents. Sometimes another municipal department will lend some dump trucks to help out, but they are only slightly more reliable than the garbage truck..

Given these scant resources and the amount of garbage the residents produce, angry residents come into the office every day to complain about how the garbage truck has not come back for two or three weeks.

These problems typically get resolved with my co-workers agreeing that garbage collection in a problem and saying how little there is that they can control. The car's out of service, they'll say (and it typically is). Then they'll place a call to the garbage collection coordinator who resolves the issue within a couple of days.

Last week, a man came into the office complaining that the garbagemen won't pick up his garbage - even though the truck continues to pass by his house.

Reason for the lack of service: spite.

A few weeks ago, some of the garbage workers looked at the man's wife the wrong way. The man didn't appreciate it too much and confronted the garbage workers about it.

They haven't picked up his garbage since.

After he complained to my office, they called the garbage coordinator to tell his employees that spite is not an acceptable reason to cut someone's service.

When gracias just won't cut it

Gracias is the standard Spanish phrase to express gratitude. For something a little stronger, you can say muchas gracias.

Sometimes that might not be enough. Or you use it so often that it loses meaning. Plus, muchas gracias can carry a sexual message (you don't really want that in your exchange with the vendors at the market.

Luckily Ecuador has a stronger phrase if you really want to thank someone, you can say Dios le pague.

It literally means "May God repay you."

You are so thankful for what the other person has done that you believe that person deserves some form of extra reward.

I wouldn't consider myself an expert on proper DLP usage yet. That would require several years of rice and chicken for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. DLP is normally said when someone goes above and beyond what they are expected of doing. Also, hearing DLP makes me feel better than muchas gracias. So just saying it might make someone's day.

The good thing about this phrase is that using the phrase in the wrong situation can make for great humor. I personally enjoy dropping DLP after buying goods at the market because of the irony (I just paid them for the goods, and I'm hoping they get rewarded for their tremendous customer service.)

One of my favorite aspects of DLP is the types of "you're welcome" replies that it can bring. My personal favorite response to DLP is ojala, which means I sure hope so in this context.

If you receive a text message from me that says DLP, that's just my shorthand way of expressing immense gratitude.

(I wish I had posted this last Thursday.)

Coastal Chanukah Celebration w/o Cholent

Last night, we had a bit of a januca party in Arenillas. For those that weren't able to attend, here is what you missed.



Three varieties of latkes: potato, yucca, and green plantain.

Verdict: all three are delicious.



Donuts with a chocolate-banana filling.



This is everything else that was on the table. Click on the image to get a detailed map.

Arenillas Racquetball Club

As the wet season approaches, the morning rains have been stronger and more sustained. And with the rains come puddles, which bring standing water and optimal conditions for mosquito breeding.

One strategy to combat the mosquitoes from getting to me this year is the electronic, mosquito-killing racket I bought a couple of weeks ago.

Not only has this allowed me to marginally reduce my risk of dengue and malaria, but it has also given me the chance to keep my racquetball skills fresh, even though there isn't a court in a few hundred kilometers.

I walk through my house a couple of times per day, swatting at mosquitoes and other flying insects with all kinds of strokes. I go with whichever approach gives me the best chance at the kill: the forehand, the backhand, the volley, the slam, the cut, the slice, and so on.

When the bugs hit the racket, there is an awesome zapping sound.

A really, really awesome zapping sound.

The bugs don't bounce off the back wall as well as I would like, so I guess that part of my game will get a bit rusty.

While this might not be the most effective way to reduce my risk for mosquito-borne illness, it is by far the most interactive and entertaining. (Telling my neighbor to do something about the exposed well in his backyard would probably be better. This takes nothing away from how entertaining it is to talk to my neighbor, but the mosquito racket is in a category of its own.)

A volunteer friend of mine recently purchased a racket of his own. He called me last week, and in the background of the conversation there were constant zapping noises.

I bought the racket in Huaquillas, the border town between Ecuador and Peru where one can find everything they could imagine - such as mosquito-zapping rackets.

Huaquillas's primary distributor of these fine products is no one-trick pony. He has figured out the key to reducing risk is diversification. The same guy who sells these rackets also manages a public bathroom. There is a big sign outside of his store that says "bathrooms for rent." He has to step aside from his toilet paper-ripping duties to sell the rackets. He also copies keys.

I couldn't think of a better januca present that a mosquito zapping racket, which comes in a variety of colors, as well.

Officially Censada

How many doors do you think sport a "censada" sticker and a mezuzah?

Census Day

In the United States, the Census takes several months to complete. It involves the hiring over 650,000 temporary enumerators and costs billions of dollars.

In Ecuador, the Census is essentially taken in a day. For that day, the entire country is at a stand-still as volunteer census takers, mostly high school juniors and seniors, go door-to-door collecting statistics.

That day was today.

From 7:00 a.m. until 5:00 p.m., it was illegal to be out of your house.

Soldiers and police officers were patrolling the streets to make sure that nobody was milling about. Domestic air travel was shut down, but international flights arrived and departed on schedule (except that you had to be at the airport before 7:00 a.m. because there were no taxis to take you). As part of keeping order during the Census, consumption of alcohol has been prohibited since Friday at midnight.

It was pretty eerie to look out my door at 7:00 this morning to see nothing but a few soldiers doing their patrols. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long until the census taker arrived at my door. The volunteer came by at 7:30.

Apparently, everybody in the country must participate in the census, whether or not they are citizens. So I answered the questions like everybody else.

One of the questions asked about my principal method of waste removal. I either recycle or compost almost all of my waste. Neither of those was an option. So I selected "other", but the census taker had trouble comprehending my response.

Another one of the questions asked about where I was born. It is clear that the census takers were not trained to survey people born outside of Ecuador. Although one of the responses to the question read "other country," my census taker was insistent that we should not fill in that blank because that is not what she was taught. I insisted. Then after conferring with her supervisor, she got permission to say that I was born outside of Ecuador.

It was also hard for the surveyor to understand that I work more than 60 hours a week, but that I am volunteer and am not making a salary.

After the forty-minute interview, she put a "counted" sticker on my door frame and moved on to my neighbors.

That left me with more than nine hours before I could leave my house. I tried to make them as productive as possible.

I started off by listening to a podcast before reading a hundred pages of my book. I went back for another podcast before lunching on leftovers from Friday night's dinner. Then I picked up my book again but only advanced another thirty pages before I got restless.

This is when I decided to "clean." I started with the floor. But as I picked up dirty clothes to clear it, I realized that I had a large pile of laundry to do. Considering it was a sunny day and I still had four hours to kill before the lockdown was over, I resolved to do all my laundry. By the time that, I only had a half hour left.

At 5:00, there was a collective exodus after everyone was cooped up all day in their homes.

Although I'm not quite sure what I would have done with my Sunday if it had not been Census Day, I was quite pleased with how productive I was. Maybe I should treat every Sunday as Census Day?

Ian vs. Kitten: The Solution

The cat is gone, and peace and quiet has returned to my house.

After the epic struggle between a cat who wanted nothing more than to be able to roam freely in the crawlspace above my apartment and some residents who wanted nothing more than to sleep at night without constant meowing, tranquility has triumphed.

This was no easy fight. The kitten relied on its size, quickness, and survival instincts. Last year, I saw a kitten kill a poisonous snake. These animals are much tougher than they look.

I needed a can of tuna, a block of cheese, a broom, two wooden planks, one pet-removal specialist, my neighbor's nephew, and a plastic bag.

---

When I left for work Thursday morning, I had set out food in two locations to try to lure the cat down from its perch in the crawlspace. I would have spent all morning trying to get the cat down, but I had some meetings that would have been hard to change.

By the time I got home for lunch, my neighbors reported that the problem was solved.

After I left in the morning, they had called in a "specialist." I use quotation marks because my refrigerator repairman was also described as a "specialist."

I wonder what qualifications this guy had as an "animal-removal specialist." This is a do-it-yourself culture. Everybody has tales about how they woke up in the middle of the night and found a poisonous snake crawling around the floor, so they just grabbed their machete and killed the snake. So for someone to be described as an "animal-removal specialist," he must have killed hundreds of snakes. (It was never explained to me who this "specialist" was. For all I know, it was the same "handyman" who tried for six months to fix my toilet and eventually gave up)

He might be competent at this whole animal-catching business, though. According to my neighbors, it only took him about an hour and a half. He could use some help at the disposal aspect of his job.

Once he captured the kitten, he set it free in the street outside my house. Displaying tremendous resiliency and determination, the cat turned around and climbed back up into the crawlspace.

Back at square one.

All of this struggle apparently tired the cat out because after returning to the crawlspace, he decided to take a little siesta. My neighbor's called in their nephew and his small hands to grab the sleeping the cat and take him away.

I was a little sad to have missed all the action, but I'm mostly just happy that the cat is gone.

Ian vs. Kitten: Day Two

At first, I found the meowing cat in my ceiling to be annoying.

I couldn't stand the fact that the cat would purr every six seconds.

But like a lot of other things in Ecuador, it's something I've gotten used to - kind of like the trucks that roar outside my apartment all night long or the reggaeton blasting from motorcycles (the drivers carry boomboxes). You kind of just get immune to it to the point that you don't even realize that it's there.

Because the cat ate some tuna last night, it doesn't appear to be as hungry as your typical cat in the ceiling.

Working with my neighbors, we now have divided our efforts to offer the cat to possible escapes.

One is the plank of wood with tuna that was up last night. My neighbors have placed another plank of wood in their apartment with some cheese on it. (It is the same plank of wood that I use to secure the door to my refrigerator.)

I sure hope that an animal on the ground does not follow the bait and find himself trapped in the ceiling with a cat. On the plus side, that would give our feline friend someone to play with.

My landlord has also called in the assistance of a handyman to fix some things around the house and enlist his efforts in Cat Snatch. I doubt that he will be of much use. This is the same handyman, who misdiagnosed a problem in my bathroom for six months. It turns out I just needed a little piece of string, the same piece of string that the handyman discarded his first day on the job.

I know I shouldn't get too far ahead of myself but I have started thinking about what I will do once I get the cat down from the ceiling.

Here's an idea:

Ian vs. Kitten: Day One

It started at 6:15 this morning.

As the fresh fish and humita vendors walked by my house with their familiar sales pitches, another sound caught my ear.

It was soft, high-pitched, feline, and coming from my roof. Unlike the vendors, who continued along their daily routes, the sound on the roof persisted.

Somehow, a cat had found its way on top of my house. I didn't really worry about it at the time. I figured that as long as the cat could find its way onto my roof, it could just as easily find its way down from my roof.

This wasn't the first time a cat has found its way into my house. One time, a kitten climbed through my kitchen window and sought refuge behind my fridge for the better part of a Saturday before I took care of the situation. Another time, while I was making macaroni and cheese, I spilled some of the hot milk-cheese mixture onto the floor. When I looked down to see the mess I was making, a cat was there, licking the sauce off the floor. (He was probably the happiest street cat in the world at the time.)

But I wasn't quite certain whether or not this was someone's pet cat who had found its way onto my roof because some new neighbors moved in next door. Throwing their pet cat out to the street would be a horrible first impression. So I figured I would just let the cat be and hope the problem would resolve itself.

I came back to my apartment for lunch, and, unfortunately, the problem had not solved itself. I asked the people who were moving in whether it was their cat, and they told it wasn´t. But I wanted to get the all-clear from my landlord before asserting myself.

The all-clear didn't come until 5:30.

By that time, the cat found the crawlspace between my ceiling and the roof and managed to forget how he got into said crawlspace.

Realizing that this situation probably wasn't going to change all night unless I did something about, I decided that it was time to get the cat down.

At this time, one of my new neighbors walked by. I asked him to help me out because if the cat didn't come down, I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight. He told me "Don't trouble yourself. The cat will come down by itself." If he could have come down by himself, he probably would have done so at some point in the last 11 hours.

This part of the night turns into the part from The Sandlot where they try a variety of strategies for getting the baseball out of The Beast's domain.

The space between my ceiling and the roof is big enough for a cat to move around in and for a person to jam a pole into, but not much else.

I don't think that cat had eaten all day. I figured the best way to get him out of their would be to lure him out with the possibility of food. I put some tuna-smelling juice on the end of my broomstick. Then, as the cat was sniffing and licking the broomstick, I would just knock the cat onto the floor.

Except that I don't have cat-like speed and reflexes. When the cat realized what I was doing, it scurried back into the roof. I did hit him on the head a few times, if that counts for anything.

Instead of just offering the cat the scent of food, I decided to give it a little food and then knock it to the floor when it was distracted and eating. I tried this once, but couldn't get a good enough push on the cat. So I just ended up giving it dinner. Then a second time, I was on the phone with a friend about the situation, when the cat took some more tuna out of the can. My lack of Denard-esque speed and reflexes showed as the cat eluded me once more.

Now, it was time to pull out all the stops. I pulled out every large piece of wood in my house and set out and elaborate ramp system, with food incentives along the way, the get the cat down.

After waiting for half an hour without any movement in one part of the courtyard, I decided to move the ramp to another section of the courtyard to see what happens.

Well, so far, the kitten has the upper hand. The ramp has been up for two hours, with little pieces of tuna along the way, but all I can hear is meowing.

I'll update you tomorrow with any developments.

The search for nutmeg

With Thanksgiving approaching, I decided to get in the spirit by cooking some traditional holiday food for some of my Ecuadorian friends.

Recipes for this season typically include what my mom called "Thanksgiving spices," like nutmeg and allspice. These spices aren't very common in Ecuador, bu they do exist here.

Last week, I was in Machala, the closest city to me where one could buy these "exotic" spices. I knew that I could find them at the large supermarket on the outskirts of town, but that was out of my way.

Instead, I tried the subpar grocery store in the center of town on the chance they might sell nutmeg and allspice (they didn't) before venturing into the outdoor market, which is several blocks of produce, poultry, clothes, bootleg movies, and just about anything else you could imagine buying.

After asking around for someone who sells nuez moscada, I was directed a woman who sells medicinal plants. I asked for nutmeg, and she pulled out a jar from under the counter.

Young woman: Is this what you are looking for?
(She points to little white nuts in the jar)
Ian: I'm not sure. (I have never bought nutment, but when I have seen it in markets, the jar is clearly labeled "nutmeg" and the nutmeg crushed up)
Young woman: Hold on. Let me ask my mom. (To older woman) Is this nutmeg?
Older woman: Yes. I think so.
Ian: How much does it cost?
Older woman: One dollar per nut.
Ian: So expensive?
Older woman: Yeah.
Ian: And you're sure this is nutmeg?
Older woman: Yes, positive. I think.
Ian: What does one do with nutmeg?
Older woman: People crush it up and put it on food.
Ian: Well, let me think about it for a minute. In the meantime, do you also sell allspice?
Older woman: No, allspice is something that people put on their food. I don't sell things that people put on food.
Ian: Oh.

After asking around, I couldn't find allspice. So I decided to pass on the nutmeg, as well.

Searching Ecuadorian market for obscure products is something that I really enjoy doing. You normally have to ask ten people where you can buy a certain product and will probably end up walking in circles several times before finally coming across what you are looking for or realizing that nobody has any clue what you are talking about. So the fact that I came up empty-handed in my search for allspice and nutmeg really didn't matter.

Luckily, I got an awesome package in the mail from my mom with all the necessary holiday fixings. And everybody loved the pumpkin pie at shabbat dinner this week, even though it didn't have nutmeg or allspice (I used cinnamon and cloves, instead). (Thanks, Mom.)

Traveshamockery

Beauty pageants, or reina competitions, are a big deal in Ecuador.

They are mentioned all over the newspapers - to the extent that I have begun calculating the reina ratio. Much like the Vikings tried to get Randy Moss the ball on 40 percent of the plays, it appears as if newspaper editors in Ecuador try to put reina pictures or references on 40 percent of the pages.

In the week leading up to a city's beauty pageant, the contestants will visit the local newspaper offices to do interviews so that the newspaper can run a full profile of each candidate with all the information one would care to know and not know.

Almost every organization elects a beauty queen. The drivers union, the artisans, the agriculture center, the high schools, the elementary schools, the preschools (I kid you not), neighborhoods, recreation sports teams, seniors groups, the firefighters, etc. Almost every group, of any kind, elects a reina. (We have been asked whether or not AREvista will have a reina competition. AREvista feels that having a reina competition would distract the group from producing the newspaper.)

Most of the pageant contestants are between the ages of 15-22. To participate in the competitions, they typically have to buy a really expensive dress and shoes. Sometimes a local organizations acts as a sponsor for pageant-related costs, but sometimes families have to spend hundreds of dollars to finance their daughter's candidacy.

The reina competitions in the larger cities are broadcast nationally, and the winners become celebrities.

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To celebrate its 55th birthday, Arenillas elected its beauty queen last week.

Normally, I don't pay any attention to the reina competitions, but one of my friends was in the running. Also, as someone who graduated from high school and is currently working on two college degrees, I thought that she would be a good role model for the Arenillas youth. So I attended the event to support her.

Unfortunately, my friend finished in second, even though she was the only contestant to answer her question and everybody I spoke to thought that she was, by far, the best candidate.



As this guy would say, "This whole thing is a travesty and a sham and a mockery."

---

Despite the disappointing outcome, the reina competition had its share of ridiculousness.

• The pageant was supposed to start at 8:00, didn't get going until 9:45, and finished at 3:00 a.m. It was by far my latest night out in Ecuador.

• At the beginning of beauty pageants, they always emphasize that there will be a "qualified jury" deciding the results. I guess there has been such a long history of biased or questionable judging that they have to put everybody's mind at ease with a disclaimer.

They talk about how it will be a fair process, that none of the judges have preconceived notions about who will win, and that the judges understand their role.

So one would imagine that when the judges spend 90 minutes conferring about the winners, they would actually do their job. Not so much this time.

The judges were supposed to order the contestants one through five because, like summer camp, there are no losers in reina competitions. They each win a different position.

The MC opened the envelop with the help of the municipal lawyer (kind of like the guy who oversees the ping pong balls in the NBA lottery) and realized that the judges did not choose fourth and fifth place.

After conferring for a few minutes, the MC, lawyer, and city councilman who was supposed to award the prize decided to flip a coin. Neither of the girls was too thrilled with the idea.

• During the wardrobe changes, different musical groups come on to entertain the crowd. One of the acts was a woman singing karaoke. It was horrible. She wasn't much of a singer or a dancer.

When she asked the crowd if she should sing another song, there was a resounding "no." Unfortunately, she didn't take their advice.

• When the candidates are parading around the stage, the MC reads a brief profile about each one. A questions on the sheet was "favorite color." One of the girls said her favorite color was blue, red, green, and gold.

• There was a seven-year old girl sitting next to me who was just miserable. All she wanted to do was go home and sleep. Unfortunately, her parents didn't arrange for a sitter.

• The President of Ecuador said that beauty pageants should no longer include the swimsuit competition. If they had included a swimsuit portion in the contest, this thing easily would have gone until 4:30.

• One of the most important things for any reina competitor is to have a strong cheering section. They handed out noisemakers and whistles as if it were purim. I embraced (This drew some laughs from my neighbors). Once I got home, I used a hammer to reshape my frying pan. I also have a pretty outstanding t-shirt from the event that I will be proud to wear back home.

A new take on the tandem

Or is this the original tandem?

Thursday is the new Monday

Last month, I talked about how the local municipality turned what was supposed to be a two-day weekend into, for all intents and purposes, a four-and-a-half-day weekend.

Today was the first day of work since last Friday. The main difference this time around is that it was a state-supported vacation. Let's check out how they made this dream a reality.

Saturday: Normal weekend
Sunday: Normal weekend
Monday: Nationally recognized day off to promote tourism
Tuesday: Day of the Dead
Wednesday: Independence Day of Cuenca

When Thursday becomes Monday, that is a great week. But for some people that wasn't enough time off. The local high school will essentially not hold classes all week.

Between today's teacher's expo and tomorrow's high school expo, this is pretty much a week of vacation for the students. And after holding classes Monday and Tuesday next week, there will no be classes until the following Monday because of the student parade, Arenillas' independence day, and the hangover day.

Fridge update

As you can tell by the picture, my fridge is still in my kitchen. Although not exactly providing an Arctic chill, the fridge is definitely cold and the freezer noticeably colder.

The only slight issue is that the door does not stay closed. There is a problem with the seal, and it stays permanently ajar. So my landlord jammed a wooden pole between the door and the wall. I have suggested some less obtrusive solutions. They should take fewer than four months to install.

(I sure hope I didn't jinx anything with this post.)

(But if there is anything to jinx, I'd like to do it now so that I have a properly functioning fridge for the rest of my service instead of partially functioning fridge that completely craps out a week before my service ends (forcing me to split the cost of a new fridge with my landlord)

Blueberries in Ecuador?

The blueberry is one of my favorite fruits.

During blueberry season in the States, I binge - which is very good for my immune system but also causes a lot of stains on my clothes.

Last October, I learned that blueberries do grow in Ecuador, but that blueberry season only lasts two days. This makes for some very concentrated binging.



On November 2nd, Ecuadorians commemorate Dia de Los Difuntos (Dia de los Muertos or Day of the Day). It is a holiday in which families go to the cemetery to spend time with the loved ones they have lost.

One of the traditions associated with this holiday is a special beverage called colada morada. It is a brew made of naranilla (little orange cousin), blackberry, blueberry, flour, cinnamon, cloves, lemongrass, arayan, and a variety of other locally available fruits and spices. It is served either hot or cold and often eaten with gingerbread men.

Because blueberries are one of the main ingredients in this beverage, one can find blueberry at the market in the days leading up to the holiday. There is nothing the rest of the year.

On Friday, I bought two bags of blueberries and another one this afternoon. I put them all in my freezer (still working) with plans to make muffins and other baked goodness with them.

Although blueberries do grow wildly in Arenillas, they are very rare. I knew of one person with a blueberry plant in her house and my other friend claims to know of a couple others. According to the woman at the market, the blueberries that she buys come from Ambato in the mountains, which is where most of the berries in Ecuador come from.

Don Maximo and my fridge

Refrigerators are supposed to create cold.

At the end of July, my refrigerator decided to stop producing a low-temperature environment and decided to produce noise, room temperature gas, and plenty of blog material.

While everybody likes blog material, that's not exactly what I look for in a refrigerator. So I sent it off to my refrigerator repairman, who told me that he would fix it within a week.

My fridge finally returned to my kitchen this week.

My repairman has a reputation for being the best in town. That says a lot more about his competition than his competency (or reliability or professionalism).

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Don Diego is the name of a hallucinogenic plant native to this part of South America. It is also my repairman's name.

Is that just coincidence?

Yes. (But that doesn't mean it's not funny)

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This was my third occasion when I needed Don Diego's technical skills. The first time he fixed my fridge in four days, and it worked for three months. The next time, he spent a couple of afternoons working on my fridge, and it worked for a couple of afternoons.

This time, he told me that he wanted to patch up a hole that was causing the gas to leak out.

Each time my fridge breaks I have this conversation with Don Diego.

Ian: Can you fix my fridge?
Don Diego: Yes.
Ian: Tell me the truth. Because if you can't fix my fridge, I'll go buy one that works.
Don Diego: No, I can fix it. Don't worry. I'll get it done.

---

One of my friend's is Don Diego's nephew. After spending a few years at the university, he moved back to Arenillas and was in the market for a fridge. He asked his uncle if he knew of anybody with an extra fridge.

His uncle told him not to worry because there was one in his shop for a long time because the owners never came back to pick it up.

My friend plugged it in and realized that the fridge was still broken. The reason the owners had never picked it up is because the repairman had never fixed it. My friend brought it back to his uncle, and only a few months later did he have a functioning fridge in his apartment.

---

When Don Diego told me that the fridge would be ready in a week, I knew that it would take longer. I've lived in Ecuador long enough to expect that. (If you can't find this stuff hilarious, you would probably go insane.)

When it wasn't ready the first week, he explained that he identified the gas leak and would order a new part from the factory to patch it up. He said he would get it to me by Friday, at the latest (or maximo el viernes)

When that week passed, he said that there were so many holes in the back panel that he had to replace the panel. Maximo el viernes.

I came back the next week. He said he was so busy with other projects that he didn't have time. Maximo el viernes.

After patching the hole, he realized that the machine needed a new filter. He didn't have the right piece and would have to go to Machala to pick it up. Maximo el viernes.

He went off to go visit his daughter at university and stayed there four days longer than he planned. Maximo el viernes.

Before leaving, he plugged to fridge in to see if it would stay cold throughout his trip. It didn't. He would have to spend more time filling the holes. Maximo el viernes.

He plugged it in again and realized there were still more holes. Maximo el viernes.

After filling all the holes, he noticed that another aluminum piece needed to be replaced. He couldn't get the piece locally. Maximo el viernes.

He went to visit his daughter again. Maximo el viernes.

He discovered more holes upon his return. Maximo el viernes.

Before you know it, three months passed, and I still didn't have a fridge.

Last week, started the same as any other. I went to Don Diego's house on Monday morning to check in on the fridge and hear whatever excuse he had that week. He told me that he was going to plug in the fridge. If it ran well for a few days, he would get it back to my house.

I came back to his house on Wednesday. He said it was working well. He just wanted to make sure that it would keep working and told me to come back on Thursday.

No one was home on Thursday.

On Friday, his wife told me that the fridge was still working well. She said that her husband would be home around 5:00 and that she would tell him to send the fridge back to my house as soon as he got home. At 6:00 there was still no fridge in my kitchen. I went back to their home. His wife told me that he wasn't back from work yet.

Early Saturday afternoon I was back at their door. He told me he would run one last test on the machine and that he would bring it by my house Sunday.

I went to his house Sunday morning, and he told me he would bring it by later in the day. I said that if it isn't at my house by 6:00, I would ring be ringing his doorbell at 6:00.

I rang his doorbell at 6:00 and woke him up from his siesta. He told me that he had to get ready for mass because he sings in the church choir but that he would bring it by my house afterward.

At 8:45, he finally pulled up to my house with the fridge in tow. We plugged it in and heard some gentle humming and felt some cool air in the freezer.

And finally, after three months, the my fridge was back in my kitchen.

The real question is whether or not he actually fixed it. Hopefully, that's not the subject of another blog post.

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Now a few thoughts on the whole "repair" process:

• Do I actually believe that he looked at my fridge that many times as many times as he claims to have? No.

• As I told some of my Ecuadorian friends about my refrigerator saga they began referring to Don Diego as Don Maximo Viernes.

• One would think that after three months of disappointment, I would be mad a my repairman. I'm not. Maybe this a case of integration (or assimilation) but I'm still friends with Don Diego.

• Stay tuned for another post that talks about life without a fridge.

Shield vs. broomstick

About a month ago, I wrote about how important Flag Day is in Ecuador.



For all of its pageantry, Dia de la bandera only celebrated the flag's three color bands. It did not celebrate the shield. I wondered whether there was a day to honor the shield.

It turns out that there is.

The Ecuadorian Congress approved the national shield on the flag on October 31, 1900 in the government of Eloy Alfaro. The shield image was originally designed by Jose Joaquin Olmedo, a former Ecuadorian president, in 1845. It contains symbolic images of Ecuadorian national heritage and the zodiac signs from March, April, May, and June.

Little did that congress know what kind of global phenomenon Halloween would become. Although Halloween is an American holiday, Ecuadorians have taken to the idea of dressing up in costumes and going to parties.

The government and school system, however, have not embraced it quite as enthusiastically. At the beginning of October, I began reading official pronouncements in the newspapers that schools and high schools will observe Day of the Shield. They will hold civic moments to commemorate the day and will be prohibited from having Halloween parades or parties.

I understand where the government is coming from on this one. Furthermore, there is enough attention given to Halloween in society here that the educational system doesn't need to promote it as much as it should preserve the national cultural heritage.

This school ban on Halloween won't stop the discos from having their big Halloween parties. Or will they be National Shield parties?

My only question is: How many people will show up dressed as the shield?

Hazy memory

I was talking to a high school teacher last week about the weather. Talking about the weather in Arenillas isn't the most exciting subject, but it is something to talk about. It was a misty morning and a little chilly (By local standards, that is. I was still wearing a t-shirt.)

He had been watching the TV and saw something about flooding in the United States. (It's unclear when he was watching the news or what part of the United States was flooded.)

Professor: It floods all the time in the United States
Ian: No, only when it rains really hard, and the water doesn't drain well.
Professor: It never floods here.
Ian: Really?
Professor: Almost never.
Ian: Weren't there lots of floods last year?
Professor: Yes, they were really bad.
Ian: I think a lot of people had to leave their homes and live in schools for a few months.
Professor: I know. It happens like that almost every year.

Fedipedi

Saturday and Sunday mornings are very quiet in Arenillas.

The residents don´t really leave their homes. Some go to church while others make their weekly visit to the market. Besides that everything is relatively tranquilo.

People aren't that interested in doing projects or having meetings or work days on Saturday and Sunday mornings. They just want to take it easy.

This means I have some free time on your hands.

Starting in June, I began using these early mornings for exercise, going for some long runs in and around Arenillas. At first, these runs weren't really building toward any specific goal, except finding a productive use for the 6:30-8:30 time slot.

I looked at a running calendar and saw that the Guayaquil marathon was at the beginning of October. I figured that four months would be enough time to get ready.

Running the marathon had a few motives behind it.

• For a Peace Corps volunteer, it it necessary to lead by example. Many times, community members will complain that a project or a task takes too much time or energy to complete so they won't do it. If there aren't people willing to push themselves or try something different, then very little will change.

Part of my motivation for training was to show the members of my community what one can accomplish if he or she pushes themselves and plans ahead.

• Recreational exercise isn't really taken seriously here. Although there is a small walking/running group that goes out a few times a week and an aerobics class that meets at night in the coliseum, exercise for the sake of better health isn't normal.

• This is my first marathon, and I couldn't imagine a better training story (rabid dogs, speeding semi-trucks, and venomous snakes). The other volunteer in Arenillas participated in the half marathon. She would go for training runs with me during the week. (It's really easy to get out of bed at 6:15 when you know someone will knock at 6:30, ready to run.)

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The marathon was last week. It was a great experience.

The run was supposed to be October 3rd but the September 30th police strike pushed it back a week. (Don't you just hate when civil unrest ruins your running plans? It sucks.) The new date, October 10th, was the day after Guayaquil's independence day. The city was a circus, not to mention that actual circus that was in town near the bus station.

I imagine that the date change affected the turnout. There were about 700 participants between the three races (10k, half marathon, marathon).




The race began at 5:00 a.m. (Actually, it was supposed to begin at 5:00 but it ended up starting at 5:20 because we are in Ecuador and "on time" has a different meaning). It's normally a bad idea to be milling about Guayaquil at that hour because the city has a reputation for being quite dangerous. But because Guayaquil also has a reputation for being quite warm when the sun is out, organizers opted for the early start so there was less running in the beating heat. It was quite funny in the first few kilometers because parties were still raging from the night before. You could still hear the booming bass from the discos and ran by the circles of drunk men on the sidewalks still passing small glasses of Pilsener.

If I were planning a marathon, I would strategically locate bathrooms along the route. I understand that most runners' systems should be regulated, and therefore the need for a toilet along the route probably wouldn't arise. But sometimes race-day nerves might aggravate it. There are very few establishments open in Guayaquil at 6:15 to let someone freshen up. For that reason, I will be eternally grateful to the restaurant owner who opened his door and took a chance on me. After my pit stop, I was a new man. No one passed me for the rest of the race (27 kilometers).

After I finished the first half, the sun came up. The heat was pretty bad and hovered around 90 degrees from 7:00 a.m. onwards. Luckily, the race organizers anticipated this and placed water stops at every kilometer. I would grab two cups at each stand, take a gulp from each, and dump the remaining contents on my back. It was quite refreshing and probably the best shower I had taken in days.

(One reason I prefer the metric system: if they put water stops at every kilometer, then there are 42 water stops along the route. If they put water stops at every mile, there are only 26 water stops.)

Because there weren't too many participants, the race organizers did not close off the roads to traffic. Instead, there was a police officer stationed at every intersection. Whenever a runner would approach, the officer would stop traffic and allow the runner to pass. This worked out quite well, and it offered the pedestrian some power that he or she rarely enjoys in this society. I only had two issues with this system. Once, three-fourths of the way through the race, I approached an intersection and noticed that the cop had decided to sneak off duty and get himself some breakfast (large plate of rice with a small piece of chicken), therefore leaving his post unattended. I waited for the car to pass and continued on my way. At another intersection, at mile 23, I don't think the cops saw me coming because I though the five lanes of traffic were stopped so I could pass. It turns out they weren't moving because of a red light. As soon as it turned green, I skedaddled across the remaining lanes.

Over the final kilometers, I felt great. I didn't run into any walls or cramps (I hate running into cramps). I just kept on going and finished in 4:32.20. My goal going into the marathon was to finish it. I did my training without a stop watch and had no specific time goals. Overall it was a great success.

The night before the race, the organizing committee offered a free, all-you-can-eat buffet dinner to all the participants. It was at an upscale restaurant and was the second-best meal I have eaten in Ecuador. There were hundreds of different dishes. Anything you could really imagine. The event had been advertised as a "pasta party" so that everyone could carbo-load before the big race. Ironically, about two percent of the dishes at the buffet included pasta, and just one of them was vegetarian. I wasn't too disappointed. I found other filling options.

My advice to anybody in Ecuador at the beginning of October: participate in the Guayaquil Marathon. Race fee includes an awesome buffet, a nice t-shirt, and some great stories. You can sign up for the 10 k, half marathon, or marathon and still get the buffet ticket.

The Mango Solstice

One of the most common conversations I have with Ecuadorians is about seasons.

Because Ecuador is located on the Equator, it only has two seasons. People want to know what it's like to live in a climate that has four seasons.

I tell them that it's pretty great, but nothing compared to the two seasons they get in Ecuador.

Of course we get fall colors and spring blossoms in the States, but, the way I see it, one of Ecuador's seasons far surpasses any that the United States can offer.

Why is that?

Well, for me, the two seasons in Ecuador are Mango Season and NotMango Season. Mango Season refers to the time of year where you can reach into a tree down the street from your house for a big, juicy mango. There is really nothing like it.

Last week, I celebrated the Mango Solstice: the first Ecuadorian mango of the season. It was delicious.

There is always a great variety of locally produced fruits here: oranges, bananas, zapotes, and papayas (and those are just the kinds of fruit trees I can see from my front door). But in my mind, the mango reigns supreme.

The flavor, the juiciness, the experience, and the residue it leaves in your beard/mustache is just something very special.

For the next four or five months, I will be in mango heaven. I shall try to maintain a count for how many mangoes I consume this season. I'm already at five. (I know I've said this before, but I mean it for real this time)

A five-day break?

The last week of September looked as if it would be normal for local municipal workers.

Work Thursday and Friday followed by the weekend and returning to the office on Monday.

It should have been a normal week. Although Arenillas was in the middle of fiestas, there were no planned days off because the biggest days of the celebration fell on Saturday and Sunday.

Instead of a normal week, they put in a half day's work over the five-day period. Let me explain.

Thursday morning was the police strike. Everyone left the office and took the afternoon off.

Friday morning, everyone showed up a little late unsure of what would happen the day after the police strike. After lunch, the city hall was closed because of municipal worker soccer matches between the city council, the municipal workers union, the contracted municipal employees, and the drivers union.

Saturday and Sunday were a weekend.

Monday was a hangover day so that everyone could recover from his or her fiesta rowdiness. All city offices were closed.

That is how one transforms a two-day weekend into a four-and-a-half-day weekend. If you want to take into the account the civil unrest on Thursday and not count that as part of the weekend, you have an unplanned three-and-a-half-day weekend and that half day of work started late and ended early to prepare for the soccer matches.