Wednesday, I officially became a Peace Corps Volunteer. We had the swearing-in ceremony at the Ambassador’s house. In the post below, you can see a clean-shaven, ‘fro-sporting volunteer next to the Ambassador and PC Country Director, a volunteer who is ready for whatever the next two years might bring.
But this is only the beginning.
After several years of wanting nothing else than to join the Peace Corps, six months of applying, three months of waiting, and two months of training, I am now a Peace Corps Volunteer.
My journey started on February 24. After a brief meeting in Washington with the 44 other members of my training group, we were in Quito a day later. The first few days in Quito were filled with meetings and general information about Peace Corps Ecuador. Then, we moved out to the training site in Cayambe, an hour north of Quito.
We were split up into training villages where we lived with host families. I was living with a host mother, brother, and sister in the community furthest away from Cayambe (an hour and fifteen minute bus ride). I never learned what happened to the father, but I didn’t need to know. I had a great time with my host family. They loved watching my movies, listening to me butcher their language, and enjoying my creations in the kitchen.
I really enjoyed my host family and don’t think the experience could have gone any better. I have heard that people in the Sierra (the Andean region of Ecuador) are really good at detecting people’s moods. I don’t’ know if this is true, but I do know that my host mother in La Chimba was better at reading my moods than anyone I have ever met. If something bothered me with training or if I was hungry or tired, she would know without me saying anything. It was really incredible. Sometimes I would feel something and not know what I was feeling. Then she would ask me if something was bothering me from training, and I would realize what was wrong.
Training was very comprehensive. Three days a week we had language training in our host communities and had general meetings with the entire training group twice a week. The general meeting topics were normally about security, cross-cultural issues, and technical topics.
Four weeks into training, we received our site assignments. I told the trainers that I had no real geographic preference and was ready for anything. And, in Ecuador, even though the country is relatively small, one could really be anywhere in terms of geography. One could be on the beach, in the middle of a cloud forest, living at 10,000 feet below a snow-capped peak, in the middle of the jungle, or on the Galapagos Islands.
My site is in in the El Oro province in a city of 14,000 people. Some of my friends are in communities of seven families, so this is a change of pace from what one might think of when they picture the typical Peace Corps site — in Africa with no electricity, no running water, a hole for a toilet, and a mud hut. I’m not complaining.
I will be working for the Office of Environmental Management at the local municipality. I will assist in reforestation projects, teach environmental education, work with the local landfill, help run the municipal tree nursery, and work with the local ecological reserve to protect a dry tropical rainforest. I got to visit my site for four days to get to know my host family, my office, and what I will be doing for the first four months. I was really happy with my experience and excited about the opportunity for the next two years.
When I returned to Cayambe after my site visit, I felt like my mind never left my site. Because I knew I would only be in training for a few more weeks, I felt like I was ready to leave and ready for the challenges presented by my site.
After our site visits, we returned to our training villages for a week before we went on technical trips. I went with the natural resource coastal tech trip and had a great time. We went to the coast in the Manabi province to see some sample Peace Corps projects, visit an ecological reserve, visit an organic farm, and soak in the coastal culture.
After our technical trips, we returned to the training sites for another week before heading back to Quito for the swearing-in ceremony. I thought I would have a little bit more free time in Quito to buy some stuff and visit people I know, but I didn’t. I did have time to get some seeds for a garden I hope to plant (passion fruit and melon, because they’re tough to find in a seed store Michigan).
We had our swearing-in ceremony on Wednesday morning, a bagel breakfast at the Peace Corps office in the late morning (I wouldn’t call it brunch because they started lunch at 12:30, so it was clearly a breakfast), a barbecue lunch, a pick-up basketball game between the new volunteers and those who came in to celebrate our swearing-in, a brief break to run errands, and then a celebration that night. The 12-hour bus to my site left at 6:00 a.m. So I decided to pull and all-nighter in hopes of crashing for the majority of the bus journey, waking up sporadically to catch bits of the bad action movie the bus officer decided to play.
The plan worked to perfection, except that, instead of action, it was a bad comedy. That, and nobody else was awake between 3:30 and 4:30, making that a lonely hour.
Now, I am at my site for the next two years. All of the volunteers have said it goes by really quickly. Let me think back to where I was two years ago today. Doing some iPhoto-assisted research, I see that I was in Washington, D.C., with a program from the Michigan Business School, sitting in on a meeting with Senator Carl Levin. That doesn’t seem like so long ago.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
It Official
When will I next wear a tie?
Sorry for the lack of recent posts. We have been really busy finishing up training, which has translated to little internet access.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Caña de azúcar
Portaging sugar cane?
Using a hatchet to split the cane
You can click on the pictures and the resolution will be much better.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Another illegitmate kugel championship
There might have been limited competition.
There might have been limited cultural knowledge of what a kugel is.
My village has never seen a bundt pan before.
The locals even had trouble pronouncing the word ´kugel´.
But in my pursuit of kugel championships, I will disregard all of these factors and claim victory in last night’s competition (after my ¨triumph¨in the first annual Malka and Elimelekh Kugelov Kugel-off, this is my second ¨championship¨).
I made a pecan noodle kugel for my host family. I must have scared away the rest of the competition (a bit of a one-party system, if you will).
Because pecans are tough to come by in these parts, I replaced them with granola and continued my path to glory. Other than that, the ingredients were very easy to find. Thanks to the Chinese, egg noodles are available in every tienda (little store, which normally doubles as someone’s house).
Because of the width of my kugel and the excess of margarine, my kugel had the consistency of Kiddush-lunch kugel. I didn’t know how the altitude would affect the baking process, so I cut back a little bit on the liquids.
Trying to explain the concept of kugel is difficult enough in English, so doing it in Spanish was even more difficult. It is such an abstract and subjective term, with so many permutations, that a simple definition in is almost impossible to come by. And when the people don’t know what a kugel is, my favorite explanation of “a kugel is anything that you argue is a kugel” doesn’t work so well.
Because the bundt pan is a mystery to the population, trying to find a golden bundt pan to use as my trophy was not feasible. Instead, my family bought me a cake. They told me it was to thank me for what I have done for them and congratulating me on finishing training. But we all know that it was the trophy for the kugel competition.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Brief Tech Trip Recap
In one week, I will officially be done with pre-service training. Soon, we will move out of our training communities and head to Quito for our swearing-in ceremony.
I have much to blog about, but I wanted to give you an idea of my schedule before I get deep into the specifics of how to use a hatchet to cut sugar cane.
Who trained me to handle sugar cane?
Someone who prefers to be called Rambo and another one called Mustache.
This all happened during the coastal, natural resource technical trip I went on last week to get better acquainted with some of the technical aspects I am likely to encounter at my site.
We spent the first three days of the trip at a hostel/environmental education center in Puerto Quito before splitting off into our regional trips. The bulk of the technical sessions there involved visits to an integrated farm down the street. The highlight of this was when we had to prune cacao trees. This phrase is code for climbing the tree and using a machete to cut down bad branches.
The other important technical aspect of our stay at the environmental education center (this phrase brings back memories of elementary school field trips) were the soccer matches between trainers and trainees in the afternoon. Even though Ecuador is obsessed with futbol and America could care less, the trainees won both matches.
Then we moved on to the coastal portion of our trip. We traveled six hours to the coastal village of Tabuga where one of our co-trainers has been working for two years on a dry tropical forest reserve.
We stayed at the reserve, in a building made out of sugar cane and without electricity. It’s a weird feeling to use howler monkeys to wake you up instead of an alarm clock. At the reserve, we learned about the history of the reserve, trail management, the logic behind their botanical garden, and the threats of illegal hunting in the reserve. We went on a hike and repaired some steps along the trail (more details to come in future posts).
We spent an afternoon walking around our co-trainer’s village to get a sense of life as a volunteer in the field and finished the day at the beach.
The next morning, we visited the owner of the reserve at his yogurt farm. He makes some delicious yogurt. Afterwards, we went to an agro-ecotourism project owned by an Italian where he is growing eight different types of tomatoes in greenhouse. This is the first coastal greenhouse I have ever heard of (it’s normally so hot on the ocast that a greenhouse is unnecessary, bu the is using it against the flies). Then we had a delicious Italian lunch (a good break from rice and fried plantains).
We continued our journey south along the coast to the community of Rio Muchacho where they have an environmental elementary school and an organic, integrated farm. It is a really awesome place, and I will write more about it soon. The owners also helped start the world’s first organic shrimp farm (shrimp farms were really big along the coast until El Nino and the white spot disease).
Our last night of the technical trip was spent in Bahia de Caroquez. It is a town on the coast that used to be a bustling metropolis. But after El Nino and an earthquake hit it bad in successive years, a lot of people moved out. You can still see that many of the buildings are abandoned. The landscape is still gorgeous, even if the buildings are abandoned.
The next morning, we took the 10 hour bus back to Cayambe.
That was a quick synopsis of our trip. I will go more in depth in subsequent posts but in the case that I don’t, I at least wanted to give you a sense of what I have done the last week, other than take pictures of funny street signs.
To finish this post, here are a few fun facts and stories that I have come across in the last few days:
One of my friend´s site is in a county on the coast which is known to have a rural population that is very skillful with the machete. Whenver he tells someone where he is going, the common reaction is the a throat-slitting action followed by them saying ´cuidado´(¨be careful¨). On his site visit, his host dad was bragging about how skillful he is with a machete. Later that day, he came home with a bandage over his thumb. Expect more posts about machete use.
My other friend´s site is the hometown of Lorena Bobbitt.
I have much to blog about, but I wanted to give you an idea of my schedule before I get deep into the specifics of how to use a hatchet to cut sugar cane.
Who trained me to handle sugar cane?
Someone who prefers to be called Rambo and another one called Mustache.
This all happened during the coastal, natural resource technical trip I went on last week to get better acquainted with some of the technical aspects I am likely to encounter at my site.
We spent the first three days of the trip at a hostel/environmental education center in Puerto Quito before splitting off into our regional trips. The bulk of the technical sessions there involved visits to an integrated farm down the street. The highlight of this was when we had to prune cacao trees. This phrase is code for climbing the tree and using a machete to cut down bad branches.
The other important technical aspect of our stay at the environmental education center (this phrase brings back memories of elementary school field trips) were the soccer matches between trainers and trainees in the afternoon. Even though Ecuador is obsessed with futbol and America could care less, the trainees won both matches.
Then we moved on to the coastal portion of our trip. We traveled six hours to the coastal village of Tabuga where one of our co-trainers has been working for two years on a dry tropical forest reserve.
We stayed at the reserve, in a building made out of sugar cane and without electricity. It’s a weird feeling to use howler monkeys to wake you up instead of an alarm clock. At the reserve, we learned about the history of the reserve, trail management, the logic behind their botanical garden, and the threats of illegal hunting in the reserve. We went on a hike and repaired some steps along the trail (more details to come in future posts).
We spent an afternoon walking around our co-trainer’s village to get a sense of life as a volunteer in the field and finished the day at the beach.
The next morning, we visited the owner of the reserve at his yogurt farm. He makes some delicious yogurt. Afterwards, we went to an agro-ecotourism project owned by an Italian where he is growing eight different types of tomatoes in greenhouse. This is the first coastal greenhouse I have ever heard of (it’s normally so hot on the ocast that a greenhouse is unnecessary, bu the is using it against the flies). Then we had a delicious Italian lunch (a good break from rice and fried plantains).
We continued our journey south along the coast to the community of Rio Muchacho where they have an environmental elementary school and an organic, integrated farm. It is a really awesome place, and I will write more about it soon. The owners also helped start the world’s first organic shrimp farm (shrimp farms were really big along the coast until El Nino and the white spot disease).
Our last night of the technical trip was spent in Bahia de Caroquez. It is a town on the coast that used to be a bustling metropolis. But after El Nino and an earthquake hit it bad in successive years, a lot of people moved out. You can still see that many of the buildings are abandoned. The landscape is still gorgeous, even if the buildings are abandoned.
The next morning, we took the 10 hour bus back to Cayambe.
That was a quick synopsis of our trip. I will go more in depth in subsequent posts but in the case that I don’t, I at least wanted to give you a sense of what I have done the last week, other than take pictures of funny street signs.
To finish this post, here are a few fun facts and stories that I have come across in the last few days:
One of my friend´s site is in a county on the coast which is known to have a rural population that is very skillful with the machete. Whenver he tells someone where he is going, the common reaction is the a throat-slitting action followed by them saying ´cuidado´(¨be careful¨). On his site visit, his host dad was bragging about how skillful he is with a machete. Later that day, he came home with a bandage over his thumb. Expect more posts about machete use.
My other friend´s site is the hometown of Lorena Bobbitt.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
Lake Placid, every game
I think you would have to go back to the 1980 Olympics at Lake Placid to find a moment quite like this in the United States: the entire country rallying around a group of athletes competing for something much greater than a win or a loss.
Offices close. People won’t answer their phones. Everything stops for the game. It grips the entire nation.
In 1980, it was democracy v. communism, on ice.
In Latin America, it happens each time the national soccer team plays a meaningful game.
Whether or not a country qualifies for the World Cup changes the psyche for that country.
And entering my site visit, Ecuador had a legitimate chance of reaching the World Cup in South Africa in 2010. They were in the middle of the qualification table and had two winnable home games against teams at the top the standings.
On my first day at my site, Ecuador hosted Brazil. Now, I know you—the uninformed soccer fan and hearyoni reader—might think I’m crazy to write that the five-time world champions could lose to one of the smallest countries in South America. But, trust me, they could (issues with the coach, the team not playing together, injuries to one of their best player, etc).
Anticipation was high that Seleccion (that’s what they call the national team here) could pull off the upset.
Ecuador maintained pressure on Brazil for the entire game and probably had 25 scoring chances to Brazil’s one.
Two issues.
The national mood was general disappointment but all could be forgotten with a win against table-topping Paraguay (see definition #1).
The game against Paraguay had a similar feel at the start. Ecuador had so many more scoring chances, but they always seem to be just a few centimeters away. Ecuador has a striker with a Mohawk and his number, eleven, shaved in the back of his head. He probably missed eleven chances for a goal.
Well, Paraguay scored in the middle of the second half and Ecuador tallied in the final minutes to salvage a point.
Walking through the streets of my community after the game, you could feel everybody’s mood was deflated. And it continued like this for a few days.
Earning just two of a possible six points leaves Ecuador seventh in the standings (the top four automatically qualify while the fifth-place team faces a playoff). There are eight games left in the qualifier but it would require a miracle for Ecuador to reach South Africa.
If the Seleccion can, somehow, make it to South Africa, the entire country will be elated. If not, depression will set in. I like to compare it to Ann Arbor — the last five years. But this is on a national scale.
Everybody, from the costa to the oriente, is 100 percent behind the Seleccion.
In the United States, this doesn’t happen. The national team is expected to reach the World Cup. And no matter how well or poorly the team performs, it doesn’t change anything.
Now, a few tidbits from my watching the game:
Offices close. People won’t answer their phones. Everything stops for the game. It grips the entire nation.
In 1980, it was democracy v. communism, on ice.
In Latin America, it happens each time the national soccer team plays a meaningful game.
Whether or not a country qualifies for the World Cup changes the psyche for that country.
And entering my site visit, Ecuador had a legitimate chance of reaching the World Cup in South Africa in 2010. They were in the middle of the qualification table and had two winnable home games against teams at the top the standings.
On my first day at my site, Ecuador hosted Brazil. Now, I know you—the uninformed soccer fan and hearyoni reader—might think I’m crazy to write that the five-time world champions could lose to one of the smallest countries in South America. But, trust me, they could (issues with the coach, the team not playing together, injuries to one of their best player, etc).
Anticipation was high that Seleccion (that’s what they call the national team here) could pull off the upset.
Ecuador maintained pressure on Brazil for the entire game and probably had 25 scoring chances to Brazil’s one.
Two issues.
- Brazil converted on its one attempt. Ecuador, well...
- I don’t know if my favorite hockey phrase—the goalie stood on his head"—works for soccer, but if it does, it aptly describes how Brazil’s goalie played. He stopped two shots at point-blank range and only allowed a goal in the waning minutes (that was more a result of the defense letting him down for the whole game).
The national mood was general disappointment but all could be forgotten with a win against table-topping Paraguay (see definition #1).
The game against Paraguay had a similar feel at the start. Ecuador had so many more scoring chances, but they always seem to be just a few centimeters away. Ecuador has a striker with a Mohawk and his number, eleven, shaved in the back of his head. He probably missed eleven chances for a goal.
Well, Paraguay scored in the middle of the second half and Ecuador tallied in the final minutes to salvage a point.
Walking through the streets of my community after the game, you could feel everybody’s mood was deflated. And it continued like this for a few days.
Earning just two of a possible six points leaves Ecuador seventh in the standings (the top four automatically qualify while the fifth-place team faces a playoff). There are eight games left in the qualifier but it would require a miracle for Ecuador to reach South Africa.
If the Seleccion can, somehow, make it to South Africa, the entire country will be elated. If not, depression will set in. I like to compare it to Ann Arbor — the last five years. But this is on a national scale.
Everybody, from the costa to the oriente, is 100 percent behind the Seleccion.
In the United States, this doesn’t happen. The national team is expected to reach the World Cup. And no matter how well or poorly the team performs, it doesn’t change anything.
Now, a few tidbits from my watching the game:
- If you think announcers in the United States are homers (#4) you don’t know anything. The guys announcing the national game down here cheer the team on during their commentary. It’s normal for them to yell “vamos, Ecuador” when they are bringing the ball up the field.
- Unlike the United States where major sporting events are broadcast by just one channel, several different channels will air the national team soccer games.
- The next two World Cup qualifiers are at the beginning of June. They will be on the road, but if Ecuador can get at least four points out of those games, this should keep their hopes alive.
- This will probably be covered in subsequent blog posts, but I have to start thinking about my rooting interests in the 2010 World Cup in case Ecuador doesn’t advance. Obviously, I will cheer for the United States but I have connections to many national teams.
- If I could have one team succeed in soccer, it would be Israel. But after a 65th-minute goal that gave Greece a 2-1 lead two weeks ago, Israel’s chances of reaching the World Cup are slim. I don’t know what it is about that team but they can’t win the big match at home.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
I love this game
A few weeks ago, I told you about opening day of the local soccer league.
It turns out that that league is now my second favorite soccer league in the community.
There is a soccer league with mothers from the local school. They get together on Sunday mornings and play on the little field at the escuela.
Let’s just say that nobody watches these games to see top quality futbol. Winning is of secondary importance. Most of the time is spent chismeando ("chatting") or laughing at the game. It is a great community activity.
All of the mothers from the school are divided into teams. My madre plays, but she missed last week’s game for religious reasons (mass).
We are only in our training community for a couple more weeks. So I probably won’t have the chance to watch my mom play in her soccer league. I would put that at the top of my list of regrets during my time in Ecuador.
There are so many outstanding elements to these games. For instance, the uniforms and lack thereof. Some mothers wear typical soccer clothes (shorts and jersey), others wear a traditional dress and jersey, some wear the traditional dress and top and then put a jersey over that, and some will even wear their traditional hat.
One time, a women got hit in the head with the ball and her traditional hat fell off. I just about died laughing and I wasn’t the only one.
The two goalies wear traditional clothing.
I would say that one of my favorite moments in the game was when the goalie dove on the ground to make a save. There were about nine people surrounding her, and she was on the ground, in her dress and blouse, trying to hang on to the ball.
For some reason, the goalie on the side of the field I was sitting on didn’t kick the ball. Ever. She would make a save and put the ball on the ground for another person on the team to kick or, for a goal kick, she would just put the ball down and let her teammates do the rest.
The game I watched ended in scoreless draw. But I wouldn’t describe it as a defensive struggle — more like an offensive struggle. They had trouble connecting on passes or dribbling up the field or doing anything for that matter. It reminded me of youth soccer where nobody stays in their position, and, instead, they all chase after the ball.
And the crowd is equally tremendous. There aren’t many males at these games. It’s just the women from the other teams taking advantage of the opportunity to talk.
To be fair to all genders, there is a male volleyball league that plays at the same time. I did some calculations, and the volleyball league is about 59 percent less hilarious than the women’s soccer league.
But because it is the only organized volleyball league in town, I guess it is also my favorite too.
It turns out that that league is now my second favorite soccer league in the community.
There is a soccer league with mothers from the local school. They get together on Sunday mornings and play on the little field at the escuela.
Let’s just say that nobody watches these games to see top quality futbol. Winning is of secondary importance. Most of the time is spent chismeando ("chatting") or laughing at the game. It is a great community activity.
All of the mothers from the school are divided into teams. My madre plays, but she missed last week’s game for religious reasons (mass).
We are only in our training community for a couple more weeks. So I probably won’t have the chance to watch my mom play in her soccer league. I would put that at the top of my list of regrets during my time in Ecuador.
There are so many outstanding elements to these games. For instance, the uniforms and lack thereof. Some mothers wear typical soccer clothes (shorts and jersey), others wear a traditional dress and jersey, some wear the traditional dress and top and then put a jersey over that, and some will even wear their traditional hat.
One time, a women got hit in the head with the ball and her traditional hat fell off. I just about died laughing and I wasn’t the only one.
The two goalies wear traditional clothing.
I would say that one of my favorite moments in the game was when the goalie dove on the ground to make a save. There were about nine people surrounding her, and she was on the ground, in her dress and blouse, trying to hang on to the ball.
For some reason, the goalie on the side of the field I was sitting on didn’t kick the ball. Ever. She would make a save and put the ball on the ground for another person on the team to kick or, for a goal kick, she would just put the ball down and let her teammates do the rest.
The game I watched ended in scoreless draw. But I wouldn’t describe it as a defensive struggle — more like an offensive struggle. They had trouble connecting on passes or dribbling up the field or doing anything for that matter. It reminded me of youth soccer where nobody stays in their position, and, instead, they all chase after the ball.
And the crowd is equally tremendous. There aren’t many males at these games. It’s just the women from the other teams taking advantage of the opportunity to talk.
To be fair to all genders, there is a male volleyball league that plays at the same time. I did some calculations, and the volleyball league is about 59 percent less hilarious than the women’s soccer league.
But because it is the only organized volleyball league in town, I guess it is also my favorite too.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Jag Sameach!
Keeping Passover in the US is enough of a challenge.
But trying to keep Passover in a country where you can only buy matzah from the JCC is another story.
It has forced me to make a few adjustments to my standard Passover diet.
First, I have been forced to eliminate matzah pizza.
Second, there is no Manischewitz in the entire country. I don’t know if it is part of the import restrictions imposed by Correa or if another kosher wine company has a monopoly on the Ecuadorian market.
Third, I am adopting a Sephardic, kitniyot-based diet.
Fourth, I will eat anything my host family gives me, except bread, because they think I am atheist.
And with those parameters I will embark on my first Pesach away from the friendly confines of family.
Because the second seder coincided with Holy Thursday in Ecuador, I got permission from the Peace Corps to go to the JCC in Quito for it.
If you recall my summer travels, this is my second visit to this JCC.
It just felt good to be with a Jewish community.
The seder was held in the ‘gran salon’ at the JCC. There were seats for 100 people, and it was just about packed.
The rabbi conducted the seder in Spanish and I was able to follow along. It was my first seder not held in someone’s dining or living room, so it was a bit of an adjustment to a bigger crowd. But I got to know the people sitting around me. Everybody who came to the seder has an interesting story, whether they are from Ecuador, volunteering here, working here, or studying here. It was a lot of fun to meet people and learn how they ended up at the Quito JCC for Pesach.
Through Jewish Geography, I was able to find three friends in common.
Estoy fleishig
For the first time since I arrive in Ecuador, I was able to say this. I have been able to maintain my vegetarian diet without much effort in Ecuador. This was the first time I came across kosher meat — no kosher butcher in Cayambe though I heard Harvard Row is considering of moving in near the Parque Central.
There was matzah ball soup served before dinner and chicken breasts during the main course. I was happy.
Homemade Maror
Before the seder, I went to the supermarket in search of horseradish and couldn’t find any. From my conversation with the rabbi, I learned that they don’t sell horseradish in this county and that you have to make your own.
I had no idea this was possible. But a friend I made at the seder sent me a simple recipe for horseradish — horseradish root and vinegar.
My first business idea for when I get out of Peace Corps...
But trying to keep Passover in a country where you can only buy matzah from the JCC is another story.
It has forced me to make a few adjustments to my standard Passover diet.
First, I have been forced to eliminate matzah pizza.
Second, there is no Manischewitz in the entire country. I don’t know if it is part of the import restrictions imposed by Correa or if another kosher wine company has a monopoly on the Ecuadorian market.
Third, I am adopting a Sephardic, kitniyot-based diet.
Fourth, I will eat anything my host family gives me, except bread, because they think I am atheist.
And with those parameters I will embark on my first Pesach away from the friendly confines of family.
Because the second seder coincided with Holy Thursday in Ecuador, I got permission from the Peace Corps to go to the JCC in Quito for it.
If you recall my summer travels, this is my second visit to this JCC.
It just felt good to be with a Jewish community.
The seder was held in the ‘gran salon’ at the JCC. There were seats for 100 people, and it was just about packed.
The rabbi conducted the seder in Spanish and I was able to follow along. It was my first seder not held in someone’s dining or living room, so it was a bit of an adjustment to a bigger crowd. But I got to know the people sitting around me. Everybody who came to the seder has an interesting story, whether they are from Ecuador, volunteering here, working here, or studying here. It was a lot of fun to meet people and learn how they ended up at the Quito JCC for Pesach.
Through Jewish Geography, I was able to find three friends in common.
Estoy fleishig
For the first time since I arrive in Ecuador, I was able to say this. I have been able to maintain my vegetarian diet without much effort in Ecuador. This was the first time I came across kosher meat — no kosher butcher in Cayambe though I heard Harvard Row is considering of moving in near the Parque Central.
There was matzah ball soup served before dinner and chicken breasts during the main course. I was happy.
Homemade Maror
Before the seder, I went to the supermarket in search of horseradish and couldn’t find any. From my conversation with the rabbi, I learned that they don’t sell horseradish in this county and that you have to make your own.
I had no idea this was possible. But a friend I made at the seder sent me a simple recipe for horseradish — horseradish root and vinegar.
My first business idea for when I get out of Peace Corps...
Friday, April 10, 2009
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
All you need to do is get a signal
I remember living in Couzens Hall at Michigan my freshman year and sitting next to the window in the hallway because that was where I got good cell phone reception. If I answered the phone in my room, I might lose the call even though this window was just 10 feet from my dorm room.
When my phone rang, I would hurry out of my room to the window.
This takes me to the second day of my site visit.
We went out to a meeting in one of the rural communities that my office works with. The village is about 45 minutes from the office. This village isn’t just off the beaten path. It’s barely on a path.
You have to drive the pick-up truck through a river to get there (I guess this what Oregon Trail meant by "fording a river." Zing.).
We got a ride there with someone from the village, but we relied on one of the municipal engineers (who was also supposed to be at the meeting) to give us a ride back.
Operating on Ecuadorian Standard Time, which can vary from 15 to 90 minutes later than whatever was supposed to happen, we arrived in the village a few minutes late. The engineer had already left.
No worries, we will just call him and tell him to come back to pick us up.
We all looked at our phones and none of us had any bars. We asked the community members which cell phone company had reception and where we had to stand to get through.
They pointed us in the direction of a house on the edge of the village green (green doesn’t really reflect the color of the grass). We went to the house and asked the guys there about cell phone service.
They said right here. None of us got service.
Then a guy, sitting inside at a window, said "no, right here." So one of my coworkers went inside the house but still had no luck.
We asked again and the local was pointing to a wall. I would say wall was a relative term here. I would describe it as a sheet of wood (that would make a good beer pong table) that separated his room from the main room.
We went up to the wall but still couldn’t get any service.
Now, he said, there is only one place where you can get service. He said you have to lean your phone up against the wall between the TV and a ledge and sometimes there will be reception.
Well, we couldn’t get any reception there either. Maybe we didn’t lean at the correct angle.
We went to the other side of the town to use a land line. We couldn’t reach the engineer because he was on the road back to town (where there is obviously no cell reception). We ended up getting another truck to come from town to pick us up, but this was a fun experience with cell phones.
Were we in "Black Sheep?" Mrs. Oneacre? Hello? Mrs. Oneacre...
When my phone rang, I would hurry out of my room to the window.
This takes me to the second day of my site visit.
We went out to a meeting in one of the rural communities that my office works with. The village is about 45 minutes from the office. This village isn’t just off the beaten path. It’s barely on a path.
You have to drive the pick-up truck through a river to get there (I guess this what Oregon Trail meant by "fording a river." Zing.).
We got a ride there with someone from the village, but we relied on one of the municipal engineers (who was also supposed to be at the meeting) to give us a ride back.
Operating on Ecuadorian Standard Time, which can vary from 15 to 90 minutes later than whatever was supposed to happen, we arrived in the village a few minutes late. The engineer had already left.
No worries, we will just call him and tell him to come back to pick us up.
We all looked at our phones and none of us had any bars. We asked the community members which cell phone company had reception and where we had to stand to get through.
They pointed us in the direction of a house on the edge of the village green (green doesn’t really reflect the color of the grass). We went to the house and asked the guys there about cell phone service.
They said right here. None of us got service.
Then a guy, sitting inside at a window, said "no, right here." So one of my coworkers went inside the house but still had no luck.
We asked again and the local was pointing to a wall. I would say wall was a relative term here. I would describe it as a sheet of wood (that would make a good beer pong table) that separated his room from the main room.
We went up to the wall but still couldn’t get any service.
Now, he said, there is only one place where you can get service. He said you have to lean your phone up against the wall between the TV and a ledge and sometimes there will be reception.
Well, we couldn’t get any reception there either. Maybe we didn’t lean at the correct angle.
We went to the other side of the town to use a land line. We couldn’t reach the engineer because he was on the road back to town (where there is obviously no cell reception). We ended up getting another truck to come from town to pick us up, but this was a fun experience with cell phones.
Were we in "Black Sheep?" Mrs. Oneacre? Hello? Mrs. Oneacre...
Monday, April 06, 2009
Obligatory Attempt at “The Office” Comparison
In the time “The Office” has been on TV, I am confident that employees in almost every business in America have been compared to characters from “The Office.”
Whether it be the boss who has people come in early just to bring him a breakfast sausage sandwich, the woman who plans the office parties, or the simple-minded, bald accountant, tens of millions of people have made these comparisons.
So, why should you care if I make them as well?
Well, first, because you are reading my blog and probably care what I have to say.
Second, because I am on the other side of the world and things are different down here (remember which way the toilets flush down here).
Before I move on to the comparisons, I’d like to set the scene. This is the second post in my multi-post, site-visit recap.
My counterpart organization is the Office of Environmental Management for a municipality in the El Oro province. Its main projects are:
All of these programs are based out of a four-desk office in the municipal building. There are three computers and space for a laptop. There is Internet access, but the speed reminds me of 28.8 kbps modem. The staff likes to play music and keep things lively. They are relatively young and say that people from other departments come by to visit because this is the cool group.
In my few days of interaction with the staff and subsequent several hours trying to draw comparisons between them and characters on "The Office," I’m kind of drawing a blank.
My boss—who I also live with—is direct, unselfish, not horribly offensive, and I don’t cringe every time he makes a decision. So all comparisons to Michael Scott are out the window.
One of my co-workers could be compared to Jim. He is young, gets stuff done, and a nice guy.
There is a secretary who is dedicated and very nice, so I guess this is an easy comparison to Pam. I don’t know if there is any history between the Jim and Pam in my office.
Beyond those two, there isn’t much in the way of parallels. Keep in mind, that I will get a better sense of these comparisons after I spend more than three days with them.
I have over 700 days to spend with them.
“The Office,” or a Spanish version of it has not hit the airwaves here yet, so people in Ecuador may not understand this post.
By the time, I’m done in Ecuador, I’m sure I will have enough workplace stories to write a season of “Ecua Oficina.” But the issue is that here, a lot of the ridiculous, illogical things that characters on "The Office" do are considered commonplace and normal.
The show might not come across as comedy here at all. People might just think it’s a bad telenovela ("soap opera").
Whether it be the boss who has people come in early just to bring him a breakfast sausage sandwich, the woman who plans the office parties, or the simple-minded, bald accountant, tens of millions of people have made these comparisons.
So, why should you care if I make them as well?
Well, first, because you are reading my blog and probably care what I have to say.
Second, because I am on the other side of the world and things are different down here (remember which way the toilets flush down here).
Before I move on to the comparisons, I’d like to set the scene. This is the second post in my multi-post, site-visit recap.
My counterpart organization is the Office of Environmental Management for a municipality in the El Oro province. Its main projects are:
- Managing the municipal tree nursery
- Assisting communities in starting potable water programs
- Watershed reforestation
- Waste management
- Environmental education
All of these programs are based out of a four-desk office in the municipal building. There are three computers and space for a laptop. There is Internet access, but the speed reminds me of 28.8 kbps modem. The staff likes to play music and keep things lively. They are relatively young and say that people from other departments come by to visit because this is the cool group.
In my few days of interaction with the staff and subsequent several hours trying to draw comparisons between them and characters on "The Office," I’m kind of drawing a blank.
My boss—who I also live with—is direct, unselfish, not horribly offensive, and I don’t cringe every time he makes a decision. So all comparisons to Michael Scott are out the window.
One of my co-workers could be compared to Jim. He is young, gets stuff done, and a nice guy.
There is a secretary who is dedicated and very nice, so I guess this is an easy comparison to Pam. I don’t know if there is any history between the Jim and Pam in my office.
Beyond those two, there isn’t much in the way of parallels. Keep in mind, that I will get a better sense of these comparisons after I spend more than three days with them.
I have over 700 days to spend with them.
“The Office,” or a Spanish version of it has not hit the airwaves here yet, so people in Ecuador may not understand this post.
By the time, I’m done in Ecuador, I’m sure I will have enough workplace stories to write a season of “Ecua Oficina.” But the issue is that here, a lot of the ridiculous, illogical things that characters on "The Office" do are considered commonplace and normal.
The show might not come across as comedy here at all. People might just think it’s a bad telenovela ("soap opera").
Sunday, April 05, 2009
Could it have gone better?
I have spent the last four days on my site visit, getting to know the place I will be living for the next two years. Before I get into it, I’ll give you a general observation: I’m really excited about it.
I figure the best way to recap this excursion would be through several blog posts, instead of one massive one — who has the patience to read a behemoth post, let alone write one.
For the first three months, I will be living with my boss’ family. He is 30 years old and unmarried. His parents are old, work in a travel agency, and very cute. This should be a good time.
Every morning, the family sits together at the breakfast table. My dad chugs a plastic bag of honey and he is amazed that I take my coffee black. Because he sits at a desk all day and has plenty of time to read newspapers, he buys three different newspapers and brings them all to the breakfast table. This gives me the opportunity to catch up on all the local and national news (It’s election time right now, so everybody is really excited about that, but I can’t get any more into that). I have a lot to say about Ecuadorian newspapers, but I´ll get into those during another post.
Going into the site visit (and Peace Corps, in general), my biggest concern was how the people of Ecuador would react to me being Jewish. I know there aren't many Jews in Ecuador (about 500 families in Quito). And I know there has recently been some anti-Semitism in Latin America (e.g. Venezuela). But after a month of pretending to be an atheist with my current host family, I reasoned that I couldn't live two years hiding my Judaism.
So, one morning at breakfast, I told my new host dad that the reason I am a vegetarian is because of my religion. After I explained to him the general rules of eating kosher and how I really enjoy eating meat but I can´t eat the meat in this country, he probed me about three subjects. This is the order:
They said they were serving congrejo for lunch. I had no idea what congrejo was. I asked if it was pescado ("fish," which I eat according to my diet). They said that it was.
It wasn't.
I don´t know what type of shellfish it was, but I know that it's not kosher. I explained to my co-worker that I can´t eat this kind of seafood because it doesn't follow my religious diet. They were very receptive and respectful.
Instead, I ate tuna and was happy.
Based upon their reaction to my keeping kosher and my dad´s questions after me saying that I am Jewish, I am really looking forward to these next two years at my site. I can´t tell you how happy I was walking to my office after that breakfast with my dad. The town must think I am the crazy gringo who smiles all the time. This might be true but I had a more legitimate reason to be ecstatic that morning.
The purpose for the short site visit was to get to know and be comfortable in the place the PC has assigned to you for the next two years. I think we accomplished that mission. How they reacted to my being Jewish makes me feel very hopeful about how the great the next two years can be.
I figure the best way to recap this excursion would be through several blog posts, instead of one massive one — who has the patience to read a behemoth post, let alone write one.
For the first three months, I will be living with my boss’ family. He is 30 years old and unmarried. His parents are old, work in a travel agency, and very cute. This should be a good time.
Every morning, the family sits together at the breakfast table. My dad chugs a plastic bag of honey and he is amazed that I take my coffee black. Because he sits at a desk all day and has plenty of time to read newspapers, he buys three different newspapers and brings them all to the breakfast table. This gives me the opportunity to catch up on all the local and national news (It’s election time right now, so everybody is really excited about that, but I can’t get any more into that). I have a lot to say about Ecuadorian newspapers, but I´ll get into those during another post.
Going into the site visit (and Peace Corps, in general), my biggest concern was how the people of Ecuador would react to me being Jewish. I know there aren't many Jews in Ecuador (about 500 families in Quito). And I know there has recently been some anti-Semitism in Latin America (e.g. Venezuela). But after a month of pretending to be an atheist with my current host family, I reasoned that I couldn't live two years hiding my Judaism.
So, one morning at breakfast, I told my new host dad that the reason I am a vegetarian is because of my religion. After I explained to him the general rules of eating kosher and how I really enjoy eating meat but I can´t eat the meat in this country, he probed me about three subjects. This is the order:
- Hava Nagila-He asked me if I knew how to sing the song. I said I do and that I have three different versions of the song on my iPod (one traditional and two clubby versions). I told him that it is a very famous dance and that they do the dance at all Jewish festivals.
We will listen to the song when I return at the beginning of the May. - Entebbe-For those of you who do not know, my Hebrew name is Yoni. I was named after Yoni Netanyahu, the commander of the Israeli raid on Entebbe, Uganda to rescue passengers from a hijacked airliner. So I obviously feel a connection to Netanyahu and to the mission.
My dad asked me about the Israeli raid in Uganda. He said it was incredible how Israel can conduct such successful missions so far from Israel. I told him about how I was named after the leader of that mission.
I think the two of us are on our way to a very special connection. Maybe I can get my hands on a copy of Operation Thunderbolt... - Then, he asked me if it was true that Jews are really successful in business...
I laughed.
They said they were serving congrejo for lunch. I had no idea what congrejo was. I asked if it was pescado ("fish," which I eat according to my diet). They said that it was.
It wasn't.
I don´t know what type of shellfish it was, but I know that it's not kosher. I explained to my co-worker that I can´t eat this kind of seafood because it doesn't follow my religious diet. They were very receptive and respectful.
Instead, I ate tuna and was happy.
Based upon their reaction to my keeping kosher and my dad´s questions after me saying that I am Jewish, I am really looking forward to these next two years at my site. I can´t tell you how happy I was walking to my office after that breakfast with my dad. The town must think I am the crazy gringo who smiles all the time. This might be true but I had a more legitimate reason to be ecstatic that morning.
The purpose for the short site visit was to get to know and be comfortable in the place the PC has assigned to you for the next two years. I think we accomplished that mission. How they reacted to my being Jewish makes me feel very hopeful about how the great the next two years can be.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Best. Activity. Ever.
In Ecuador, it is customary to start every Peace Corps class or session with an icebreaker activity. After about the first week, the purpose of the icebreaker isn’t to get to know people. The objective turns to getting people ready to learn.
Well, I don’t know if this is customary outside of Peace Corps circles, but within PC, this is pretty standard. Kids love them, so it should really help me out when I’m teaching environmental education.
Last week, the co-trainers started a session by getting all of the trainees into a circle. Then they said that you had to play a game of rock, paper, scissors with the person standing next to you (obviously, best out of three).
The person who wins will then play the person next to him/her in the circle, while the loser becomes a fan of whoever beat him/her and cheers them on in the next game. If that person (the winner from the first game) loses, the original loser moves cheering allegiances to the new winner.
If my use of pronouns doesn't make sense, the main takeaway is that each loser—and the chain of losers leading up to that bout—cheers on whoever is winning.
Eventually, it comes down to a final match between two people and the crowd is going nuts. And then we're ready and excited to learn.
Well, I don’t know if this is customary outside of Peace Corps circles, but within PC, this is pretty standard. Kids love them, so it should really help me out when I’m teaching environmental education.
Last week, the co-trainers started a session by getting all of the trainees into a circle. Then they said that you had to play a game of rock, paper, scissors with the person standing next to you (obviously, best out of three).
The person who wins will then play the person next to him/her in the circle, while the loser becomes a fan of whoever beat him/her and cheers them on in the next game. If that person (the winner from the first game) loses, the original loser moves cheering allegiances to the new winner.
If my use of pronouns doesn't make sense, the main takeaway is that each loser—and the chain of losers leading up to that bout—cheers on whoever is winning.
Eventually, it comes down to a final match between two people and the crowd is going nuts. And then we're ready and excited to learn.
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Beginning with "buenos dias" or not
"Buenos dias"
It's just a simple greeting that means "good morning." But from this common phrase, one can learn a great deal about the Ecuadorian culture.
Imagine walking down the main street in whichever town you live in and greeting everybody you pass with a “good morning” (or afternoon or night, depending on the time of day). Whether or not you know the person, you exchange a friendly greeting.
I know that in the United States, this type of practice would probably draw a lot of blank faces and limited response from others on the street.
In Ecuador, it is actually offensive if you don’t greet people on the street. It is just considered the proper thing to do.
I really enjoy this, especially in the small town atmosphere because it creates a great sense of community. And for a gringo, it makes me feel welcome in the community even if they are just saying "hi" to be polite. I’ve actually grown so accustomed it that I’m offended when someone doesn’t respond to my saludo ("greeting").
The only time time matters
For the most part, Ecuadorians do not operate on a time rigid schedule. Generally, it is expected that people arrive a few minutes late, even up to an hour. This is known as the "hora Ecuatoriana." [Though I would contend that it is the "hora Latina," the people here like to call it the “hora Ecuatoriana." We’ll stick with that.)
But the one instance it seems that the actual time matters in Ecuador is with the salutation. At noon, everybody switches over from the “buenos dias” to the “buenos tardes.” And once six o’clock hits, you get the “buenas noches.” It doesn’t matter if you think 6:00 should still be considered afternoon.
To the Ecuadorian, the afternoon ends at 6:00 and night begins. Night ends at midnight and there is another greeting for between midnight and 6:00 a.m. I haven’t really been out between these hours, so I don’t know what that term is. When I learn it, I shall blog about it.
Respect, gotta respect
Spanish, as a language, places an emphasis on respect for people who deserve it. As many of you know, there are two verb forms for the second person: informal and formal.
There is also a formal and an informal way of greeting strangers on the street. If the person is older than you/demands respect, you always greet them with a “buenos dias” (or the correct temporal alternative). But, if it is a person younger than you, it is simply an “hola.”
Before I arrived in Ecuador for the Peace Corps, it was always my instinct to start all conversations with an “hola.” This got me into some trouble when I greeted my host family's abuelo (grandfather) and abuela (grandmother) with an “hola” on my first day. I have since learned my lesson and am very apprehensive to start any exchange with “hola.”
With my madre, for example, I always greet her with a “buenos dias” and she always responds with an “hola.” Even if she initiates the conversation with me, she will say “hola” and I will respond with “buenos dias.”
I still say "adios."
It's just a simple greeting that means "good morning." But from this common phrase, one can learn a great deal about the Ecuadorian culture.
Imagine walking down the main street in whichever town you live in and greeting everybody you pass with a “good morning” (or afternoon or night, depending on the time of day). Whether or not you know the person, you exchange a friendly greeting.
I know that in the United States, this type of practice would probably draw a lot of blank faces and limited response from others on the street.
In Ecuador, it is actually offensive if you don’t greet people on the street. It is just considered the proper thing to do.
I really enjoy this, especially in the small town atmosphere because it creates a great sense of community. And for a gringo, it makes me feel welcome in the community even if they are just saying "hi" to be polite. I’ve actually grown so accustomed it that I’m offended when someone doesn’t respond to my saludo ("greeting").
The only time time matters
For the most part, Ecuadorians do not operate on a time rigid schedule. Generally, it is expected that people arrive a few minutes late, even up to an hour. This is known as the "hora Ecuatoriana." [Though I would contend that it is the "hora Latina," the people here like to call it the “hora Ecuatoriana." We’ll stick with that.)
But the one instance it seems that the actual time matters in Ecuador is with the salutation. At noon, everybody switches over from the “buenos dias” to the “buenos tardes.” And once six o’clock hits, you get the “buenas noches.” It doesn’t matter if you think 6:00 should still be considered afternoon.
To the Ecuadorian, the afternoon ends at 6:00 and night begins. Night ends at midnight and there is another greeting for between midnight and 6:00 a.m. I haven’t really been out between these hours, so I don’t know what that term is. When I learn it, I shall blog about it.
Respect, gotta respect
Spanish, as a language, places an emphasis on respect for people who deserve it. As many of you know, there are two verb forms for the second person: informal and formal.
There is also a formal and an informal way of greeting strangers on the street. If the person is older than you/demands respect, you always greet them with a “buenos dias” (or the correct temporal alternative). But, if it is a person younger than you, it is simply an “hola.”
Before I arrived in Ecuador for the Peace Corps, it was always my instinct to start all conversations with an “hola.” This got me into some trouble when I greeted my host family's abuelo (grandfather) and abuela (grandmother) with an “hola” on my first day. I have since learned my lesson and am very apprehensive to start any exchange with “hola.”
With my madre, for example, I always greet her with a “buenos dias” and she always responds with an “hola.” Even if she initiates the conversation with me, she will say “hola” and I will respond with “buenos dias.”
I still say "adios."
Monday, March 30, 2009
The Cradle of Futbol
One of the coolest things about Ecuador is how, for one of the smallest countries in South America, it is incredibly diverse — geographically, environmentally, and culturally.
Two weeks ago, I got a dose of this cultural diversity. You don’t have to travel more than an hour to experience a completely different culture.
We took a field trip to the Rio Chote Valley and the Afro-Ecuatorian community of Juncal.
I took a bus from my village to Cayambe. It takes about an hour. From there, we boarded another bus to go to Juncal, which is a very small town on the border of the Imbabura and Carchi provinces. The people on the bus to Cayambe were mostly native and mestizo. On the bus to the Rio Chote Valley (which took 90 minutes), it was almost exclusively filled with Afro-Ecuatorianos.
I had become so accustomed to the modest, conservative culture of Cayambe that the in-your-face feel of Juncal caught me by surprise a bit. People talked, were clothed, and handled themselves differently. Apparently, the Afro-Ecuatorian population arrived in this location as part of the sugar trade — I believe they were slaves at the time — and have stayed here since.
Today, Juncal’s main export is its soccer talent. Five players out of the 22 on the national soccer team came from Juncal. And amazingly, the town is just recently getting its first soccer stadium. Before now, all soccer had been played on the dirt roads or cement.
Walking through the town is a very weird experience because many of the buildings are rundown. Right next to some of these homes are really nice, modern looking ones. The news homes were built by the soccer players for themselves and their families.
We talked with a local (and helped him peel some onions). He talked about how the kids here grow up with the dream to play soccer and it is one of their only opportunities to make it out of Juncal.
In addition to soccer, the town is known for the Afro-Ecuatorian culture, namely the bomba dance. This style of dance involves a woman dancing with a glass bottle on her head.
We asked the Juncalis (?) how they celebrate their festivals. Apparently, every festival involves bomba dancing. Other than the bomba, the Afro-Ecuatorian culture is dying away. Many of the older festivals are no longer celebrated. The national Ecuadorian calendar has superseded most of the traditional, seasonal celebrations from this once vibrant community.
Two weeks ago, I got a dose of this cultural diversity. You don’t have to travel more than an hour to experience a completely different culture.
We took a field trip to the Rio Chote Valley and the Afro-Ecuatorian community of Juncal.
I took a bus from my village to Cayambe. It takes about an hour. From there, we boarded another bus to go to Juncal, which is a very small town on the border of the Imbabura and Carchi provinces. The people on the bus to Cayambe were mostly native and mestizo. On the bus to the Rio Chote Valley (which took 90 minutes), it was almost exclusively filled with Afro-Ecuatorianos.
I had become so accustomed to the modest, conservative culture of Cayambe that the in-your-face feel of Juncal caught me by surprise a bit. People talked, were clothed, and handled themselves differently. Apparently, the Afro-Ecuatorian population arrived in this location as part of the sugar trade — I believe they were slaves at the time — and have stayed here since.
Today, Juncal’s main export is its soccer talent. Five players out of the 22 on the national soccer team came from Juncal. And amazingly, the town is just recently getting its first soccer stadium. Before now, all soccer had been played on the dirt roads or cement.
Walking through the town is a very weird experience because many of the buildings are rundown. Right next to some of these homes are really nice, modern looking ones. The news homes were built by the soccer players for themselves and their families.
We talked with a local (and helped him peel some onions). He talked about how the kids here grow up with the dream to play soccer and it is one of their only opportunities to make it out of Juncal.
In addition to soccer, the town is known for the Afro-Ecuatorian culture, namely the bomba dance. This style of dance involves a woman dancing with a glass bottle on her head.
We asked the Juncalis (?) how they celebrate their festivals. Apparently, every festival involves bomba dancing. Other than the bomba, the Afro-Ecuatorian culture is dying away. Many of the older festivals are no longer celebrated. The national Ecuadorian calendar has superseded most of the traditional, seasonal celebrations from this once vibrant community.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Mandel Brodt at 10,000 feet
Monday night, I tried to cook a family specialty for my Ecuadorian family: mandel brodt (pronounced ‘bread’). It is a type--my favorite type--of almond/dried fruit dessert.
I am not the most culinarily inclined in my family, but in my Ecuadorian family, I might be the most epicurian of the bunch. A gourmand. The rest of the bunch isn’t really motivated to bring anything new in the kitchen, but they are excited to eat anything that I make them. Like two nights ago, I made my first ever veggie lasagna, and they called it “rico” or rich.
Which brings me to Monday night. In my suitcase to Ecuador, my mom packed me a container of mandel brodt as a gift for my family. And my family loved it (who wouldn’t?). So I told them that I would try to make it for them.
Keyword in that sentence is “try.”
This weekend, I got all the necessary ingredients at the market in Cayambe. I got the recipe from my mom and adjusted it for altitude. Apparently, you are supposed to change things around because there is less oxygen in the air, water boils at a different temperature, and baking can be affected.
Well, we had a great time baking and whatever we made was delicious. I just wouldn’t describe it as “mandel brodt.”
My “cooking at altitude” sheet says that you are supposed to add more liquid the higher up you are. So I did this. But when I put the dough in the pan, it ran to the edges. I guess I made more of a mandel cake than anything else. And also, with less oxygen, the dough didn’t rise as much as it should.
Nonetheless, whatever my family received was met with rave reviews. And I learned my lesson for next time.
I also bought ingredients to make a challah (Jewish egg bread) and a kugel (noodle pudding).
So you should get excited for more tales from the kitchen.
Here is my lasagna, which has already been brought back by popular request.
I am not the most culinarily inclined in my family, but in my Ecuadorian family, I might be the most epicurian of the bunch. A gourmand. The rest of the bunch isn’t really motivated to bring anything new in the kitchen, but they are excited to eat anything that I make them. Like two nights ago, I made my first ever veggie lasagna, and they called it “rico” or rich.
Which brings me to Monday night. In my suitcase to Ecuador, my mom packed me a container of mandel brodt as a gift for my family. And my family loved it (who wouldn’t?). So I told them that I would try to make it for them.
Keyword in that sentence is “try.”
This weekend, I got all the necessary ingredients at the market in Cayambe. I got the recipe from my mom and adjusted it for altitude. Apparently, you are supposed to change things around because there is less oxygen in the air, water boils at a different temperature, and baking can be affected.
Well, we had a great time baking and whatever we made was delicious. I just wouldn’t describe it as “mandel brodt.”
My “cooking at altitude” sheet says that you are supposed to add more liquid the higher up you are. So I did this. But when I put the dough in the pan, it ran to the edges. I guess I made more of a mandel cake than anything else. And also, with less oxygen, the dough didn’t rise as much as it should.
Nonetheless, whatever my family received was met with rave reviews. And I learned my lesson for next time.
I also bought ingredients to make a challah (Jewish egg bread) and a kugel (noodle pudding).
So you should get excited for more tales from the kitchen.
Here is my lasagna, which has already been brought back by popular request.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Pure Ecuadoriana
It has been 11 years since I played a game of organized baseball. For me, spring doesn’t even start until the red, white, and blue blunting has been draped over the dugout fences of Kaline Field in Franklin, Michigan, signifying Opening Day for Franklin Baseball Little League.
You have the village green, the gazebo, the church, the ground-rule-home-run-hill in the background.
That is what I like to call “pure Americana.”
Sunday morning, I got to experience the Ecuadorian equivalent — the opening day of the local soccer league.
It was a lazy little Sunday. I woke up without an alarm clock at 8:00 a.m. and went into the living room/dining room/family room (it’s all the same room in my house) to see what was going on. Breakfast was being made (and my assistance wasn’t required), so I sat down at the table and started reading this week’s New York Times Magazine articles about Allonzo Trier and the Sandanistas (I copied and paste them onto my flash drive on Saturday).
At about 9:00, the music started pumping from the soccer field. Festivities were supposed to begin at 9:00 but things down here operate on the Hora Ecuatoriana, so we figured it wouldn’t start until about 9:30, which is when we walked down to the pitch.
On the road in my town—I would call it the main road but there really aren’t any other roads, so the road is enough to distinguish it from everything that is not a road), all 21 of the teams in the local soccer league lined up for the opening-day parade.
At the front of each team was a girl/woman dressed in either very traditional clothing or modern—but very modest—apparel. These are the madrinas and they lead the team through the parade. The madrinas wear a sash with the name of the team they represent. There is a beauty pageant involving the madrinas that occurs during the parade. I don’t really know how it’s judged (more on this later).
We walked down to the field and took a seat near midfield, but not at midfield (this area is reserved for the president of the community and other local politicians). The entire community turns out for this event so my sister and brother dressed up for the occasion. I, on the other hand, didn’t. But it was fun to see everybody come together for this. I guess the main difference between this league and opening day of little league in the states is that people of all ages play in this league.
You have the village green, the gazebo, the church, the ground-rule-home-run-hill in the background.
That is what I like to call “pure Americana.”
Sunday morning, I got to experience the Ecuadorian equivalent — the opening day of the local soccer league.
It was a lazy little Sunday. I woke up without an alarm clock at 8:00 a.m. and went into the living room/dining room/family room (it’s all the same room in my house) to see what was going on. Breakfast was being made (and my assistance wasn’t required), so I sat down at the table and started reading this week’s New York Times Magazine articles about Allonzo Trier and the Sandanistas (I copied and paste them onto my flash drive on Saturday).
At about 9:00, the music started pumping from the soccer field. Festivities were supposed to begin at 9:00 but things down here operate on the Hora Ecuatoriana, so we figured it wouldn’t start until about 9:30, which is when we walked down to the pitch.
On the road in my town—I would call it the main road but there really aren’t any other roads, so the road is enough to distinguish it from everything that is not a road), all 21 of the teams in the local soccer league lined up for the opening-day parade.
At the front of each team was a girl/woman dressed in either very traditional clothing or modern—but very modest—apparel. These are the madrinas and they lead the team through the parade. The madrinas wear a sash with the name of the team they represent. There is a beauty pageant involving the madrinas that occurs during the parade. I don’t really know how it’s judged (more on this later).
We walked down to the field and took a seat near midfield, but not at midfield (this area is reserved for the president of the community and other local politicians). The entire community turns out for this event so my sister and brother dressed up for the occasion. I, on the other hand, didn’t. But it was fun to see everybody come together for this. I guess the main difference between this league and opening day of little league in the states is that people of all ages play in this league.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
I know where I´ll be for the next two years
So today, they did the big site assignments. They had us sit in the front of the room, and, in the back of the room, there was a big map of Ecuador on the floor (made out of masking tape).
They pulled each trainee´s name out of an envelop and announced their site and province. Then the trainee would run through a tunnel of faciliators and PC staff (with roses on the floor) before finding their site on the map.
So my site is.......
in the province of El Oro in a town of 14,000 people.
The site description says that I will be working on reforestation of a dry, tropical rainforest reserve, aiding at a tree nursery, and assisting with waste management. This sounds pretty exciting, but I have no idea if this is what will really happen. One of our trainers said her work had nothing to do with what was on her site description, but this gives an idea of what my counterpart is looking for.
I go on a site visit next week, so I will definitely know more.
Now, here is what I know about the El Oro province.
- It is on the Pacific Coast.
- It borders Peru. So my site might be the furthest from Quito of anybody in my group.
- The world´s banana capital, Machala, is located in El Oro. The little bananas are known as oritos and are named after the province.
I hope to learn more.
They pulled each trainee´s name out of an envelop and announced their site and province. Then the trainee would run through a tunnel of faciliators and PC staff (with roses on the floor) before finding their site on the map.
So my site is.......
in the province of El Oro in a town of 14,000 people.
The site description says that I will be working on reforestation of a dry, tropical rainforest reserve, aiding at a tree nursery, and assisting with waste management. This sounds pretty exciting, but I have no idea if this is what will really happen. One of our trainers said her work had nothing to do with what was on her site description, but this gives an idea of what my counterpart is looking for.
I go on a site visit next week, so I will definitely know more.
Now, here is what I know about the El Oro province.
- It is on the Pacific Coast.
- It borders Peru. So my site might be the furthest from Quito of anybody in my group.
- The world´s banana capital, Machala, is located in El Oro. The little bananas are known as oritos and are named after the province.
I hope to learn more.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Mi Club de Cine
A couple weeks ago, I noticed that my hermano has a Buzz Lightyear lunchbox. I asked him if he had ever seen Toy Story before. He looked at me with that blank face I’m used to seeing when an Ecuadorian doesn’t understand what I’m saying. He had never heard of the film before. He just has the lunch pail.
I needed to remedy this situation.
Al infitio y mas
Last Sunday, I sat down with my siblings and watched Toy Story in Spanish. They loved it, and Luis has requested to see it again. Everybody enjoyed the movie-watching experience. It was much better than when we watched the Russian edition of Madagascar 2 with muffled Spanish audio track. In fact, Luis has expressed interest in watching the movie again.
But there are too many movies to watch to double up. I went through my library of 14 movies to see which ones offered Spanish audio tracks. That way, we would be watching a movie that I enjoy, while spending quality time with my siblings and improving my Spanish. Jackpot.
Do, Ray,…. Egon
The next movie we watched was Ghostbusters (Casa Fantasmos). Luis is really into Los Power Rangers, so I figured he would enjoy them. There is plenty of humor in the film, so my hermana would also get a kick out of them. And because both of her children are happy, my madre would also enjoy the films. Everybody wins.
After we finished the first Ghostbusters, I told my siblings that I also had the sequel with me. They wanted to watch it immediately. If there is a better way to explain how much they enjoyed the movies, I can’t think of one. It was already 8:30 when the first movie finished. We watched 15 minutes of Ghostbusters 2 and called it a night.
The next night, we continued the movie, but because of another late start, we still had about a half hour left for Tuesday night. We finished up the movie. My family had some trouble understanding how they could move the Statue of Liberty. I didn’t know how to answer them. I mean, if you are watching a movie where a green ghost is driving a bus, you should probably come to grips with the idea that the Harbor Chick can stroll down Fifth Avenue.
The two other movies that I brought that offer a Spanish audio track are Air Force One and Along Came Polly. I don’t know if they are going to be appropriate for Luis. I will consult with my hermana and madre about this one.
But my family also said that they have a collection of movies in Spanish that we could watch. In conclusion, I’m pretty excited about this movie club. I´ll keep you posted on our future meetings.
Memo to Vadim: Ghostbusters is on the leeeeest. So Luis and Erika are at least at one.
I needed to remedy this situation.
Al infitio y mas
Last Sunday, I sat down with my siblings and watched Toy Story in Spanish. They loved it, and Luis has requested to see it again. Everybody enjoyed the movie-watching experience. It was much better than when we watched the Russian edition of Madagascar 2 with muffled Spanish audio track. In fact, Luis has expressed interest in watching the movie again.
But there are too many movies to watch to double up. I went through my library of 14 movies to see which ones offered Spanish audio tracks. That way, we would be watching a movie that I enjoy, while spending quality time with my siblings and improving my Spanish. Jackpot.
Do, Ray,…. Egon
The next movie we watched was Ghostbusters (Casa Fantasmos). Luis is really into Los Power Rangers, so I figured he would enjoy them. There is plenty of humor in the film, so my hermana would also get a kick out of them. And because both of her children are happy, my madre would also enjoy the films. Everybody wins.
After we finished the first Ghostbusters, I told my siblings that I also had the sequel with me. They wanted to watch it immediately. If there is a better way to explain how much they enjoyed the movies, I can’t think of one. It was already 8:30 when the first movie finished. We watched 15 minutes of Ghostbusters 2 and called it a night.
The next night, we continued the movie, but because of another late start, we still had about a half hour left for Tuesday night. We finished up the movie. My family had some trouble understanding how they could move the Statue of Liberty. I didn’t know how to answer them. I mean, if you are watching a movie where a green ghost is driving a bus, you should probably come to grips with the idea that the Harbor Chick can stroll down Fifth Avenue.
The two other movies that I brought that offer a Spanish audio track are Air Force One and Along Came Polly. I don’t know if they are going to be appropriate for Luis. I will consult with my hermana and madre about this one.
But my family also said that they have a collection of movies in Spanish that we could watch. In conclusion, I’m pretty excited about this movie club. I´ll keep you posted on our future meetings.
Memo to Vadim: Ghostbusters is on the leeeeest. So Luis and Erika are at least at one.
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