You think that's bad

"I've seen this. I've done this. You don't want this."

-Zohan Dvir

In the U.S., the mildly obscure but extremely common sickness that most people can relate to would be chicken pox.

Everybody has an experience with those little red dots, unless you were born in the 90s and received the vaccine. Although most of us were too young to really remember our chicken pox, it is something that most of us have suffered through.

In my town, people don't get chicken pox.

Instead, the semi-obscure, fully miserable disease that nearly everyone can relate to is dengue fever. (After last week's bout ... "I can relate")

Now, I would only compare dengue fever to chicken box in its commonality — nothing else!

Dengue fever is a tropical, mosquito-transmitted illness that has also been referred to as Broken Back Disease. I don't really like that nomenclature because it puts too much emphasis on one symptom — you get the notion that a chiropractor could help you with dengue.

That name disrespects the disease and its other symptoms. And you don't want to disrespect dengue. It can hurt you a lot of ways.

• Pounding headaches
• Paralyzing back pains
• Rusty joints
• Really, really, really high fever
• Chills
• Fainting
• Nausea
• Diarrhea
• Sore throat
• Rash

And this doesn't include the most irritating and often overlooked symptom: It makes everything you eat taste like chalk. And if something already tastes bad (like a rehydration solution), it will taste that much worse.

Oh, and there is no medicine that can cure dengue.

You can't do anything except take whatever punishment the disease decides to inflict upon you. And it lasts for at least a week — sometimes more.

So when you mention dengue to someone in town, they exhale and make a face that says "I feel really, really bad for that person. I know exactly what they are going through, and I do not envy them at all."

---

Last Monday night, my body felt like it was about to break down. The back pains and aching legs were followed by sleeplessness, lightheadedness, and a low-grade fever. At one point, I woke up on my bathroom floor. The next day, I rested most of the day and the symptoms weren't that bad. I didn't really think this was some sort of tropical disease. I pinned it on a combination of exhaustion, malaria medicine, and not eating enough on Monday.

But then I had another miserable night: my back felt as if it had been run over by a tractor and I cycled between baking-like-a-toasted-cheeser and shivering.

The following day, I felt fresh (I have no idea how that could happen because I slept all of seven minutes the night before, but it did). Feeling fine and with a really low fever, I thought I could maybe get some work done.

Mistake.

If there is one thing you do not want to do when you have dengue is challenge dengue. Best advice: submission.

Luckily, I realized my mistake early on and went right back to bed. By the third day, the fever was still there. My friend, a recent dengue survivor, said that I should call the Peace Corps med staff and explain my symptoms. (For the record, on the second day of my symptoms, she was convinced I had dengue)

So I did that. And the blood test looked like a probable case of dengue.

Continue submission.

Now let me explain what I mean by submission. You lie down on your bed. You can't really move because it hurts. If you overcome the sore joints and the pain that it takes to move, you can't really stand up because you'll probably faint. And did I say you have to keep hydrating and nourishing yourself while thinking that any food that goes into your body has a very good chance leaving your body through that same orifice.

In fact, when the medical staff first explained dengue to us during training they said that for ten days you will feel like you want to die, except that you won't. Thanks for the reassurance.

My friend who recently got over the disease described it as "roadkill."

Both are very accurate.

Those are the fact. Do you want to know what it's like to feel like you want to die?

Well, it sucks. And time passes really slowly.

It really makes you appreciate how great it is to have your health. Unfortunately, we only realize this when we are put in such dreadful states. But let me tell you something: be thankful you haven't gone through dengue.

To pass the time, I arrived at a mental state in which I tried to separate my mental being from the physical being. That way, I didn't have to focus on the anguish my body was in. It worked pretty well.

The other thing that helped me pass the time was being delirious. I knew I was being delirious because I would think about things and then say to myself "Ian, you're not thinking clearly." I planned on writing a journal to keep track of my dengue delusions. Then it hurt too much to write, so I had to scrap those plans. I'm sorry you all missed out on Delirious Ian. He's pretty entertaining. And blame it on dengue that you don't have his ramblings.

So what does it take to get over dengue? I've boiled it down to two things: patience and acceptance.

You wake up in the morning and know that all day long you will be in pain. Then you try to sleep at night and are in pain again. Of course, you've also realized that you can't do anything to make it better or go faster.

But eventually, it gets better. One night, your fever feels like it can't get any higher. Then the next morning, you head to the doctor for a blood test and the fever goes away. Congratulations, you are over the hump.

My family likes to use a phrase to describe difficult situations, be it taking a shit in the woods, being stuck out in the wilderness, a tough project for school or work:

"It builds character." (Or for those who speak in Latin tongue "construir carácter")

It's difficult to measure how you have changed. All you know is that you are better prepared to face other situations.

Dengue is definitely a character-building episode — one that I hope you never get to experience.

And I'm doing everything I can to make sure I don't get it again. They say the second round of dengue is worse than the first.

Thank you very much to everybody who posted a comment on the previous post or passed his or her messages through my family. I have been bedridden for nearly a week, but my family read them to me over the phone. It means a lot to have that kind of support group helping me through this character-building experience.

Ian has dengue fever.

I have dengue fever. It sucks. But I am recovering and will be back soon to blog about it.

Great fruit name

There are two kinds of guaba fruit that are common by me.

One of them is called vine guaba because the pits and fruit grow in a something that looks like a vine.

The other kind is called machete.

While the fruit is difficult to open, the name derives from its shape rather than the tool needed to open it.

It is a pretty decent fruit. The edible portion is gummy, and the pit looks like a cockroach.

A head scratcher

No, I don't have lice. Well, not yet at least.

Many times in Ecuadorian society, I have found myself speechless in response to certain actions or comments.

I had one of those yesterday in my living room.

I had some of the kids from the newspaper over to my house to celebrate the launch of their second edition.

By "celebrate the launch," I also mean "fold" because our newspapers don't come pre-folded. Part of the festivities involved baking oatmeal raising cookies and the other part involved folding 1500 copies of the newspaper. But since the folding takes more than the half hour it takes to make the cookies, one must provide some snacks throughout the afternoon.

I got them some plums and chocolate-covered bananas. They were delicious. Then, they finished eating and faced the question: what should I do with my garbage?

(Prepare to scratch your head)

There are a few options they could have opted for here.

• One would have been taking their waste and putting in the garbage bag in my kitchen.
• Another could have been throwing the pits into my neighbor's chicken yard.
• Another would have been to put the organic waste in the compost pile.
• Another would have been wrapping the garbage in a some newspaper paper and lighting it on fire.
• One more would be to take the pits and sticks and throw them on my floor.

There are probably a few other things they could have done with their waste, but these are the primary options that I can think of.

What do you think they chose to do?

Well, if you chose "turn my living room into a landfill," then you should get some sort of prize.

They just decided to drop their waste on my floor, which meant that the neighborhood ants and cockroaches were attracted by the fresh food and made for a horrible situation.

(Scratch your head and think)

AREvista (Segunda Ediciòn)

So when the kids made their first newspaper last month, they didn`t really understand what it would take to put together a monthly newsletter.

A lot of people even doubted that they could turn around and put together a new edition within a month.

Well they did.

You can find the next edition of the newspaper by clicking here.

The Interns

In Ecuador, high school seniors have to complete an internship to graduate. They do it to get a real-life experience.

Last week, two interns showed up in our office with 520 hours of service to complete.

In my time at the municipality, I have seen a few of these interns come and go. And the majority of their work has been, how do I say this correctly, the bitch work that the people in the offices have to get done but don't want to do. They have to organize filing cabinets, staple receipts, clean cabinets, etc.

But as soon as I saw the youth in my office, my mind flashed to a Seinfeld episode.

(Kramer just finished explaining an idea for a restaurant above the Chrysler Building)
Kramer: Of course it's a good idea. I conceived this whole project two years ago
....
Kramer: You see, I come up with these things. I know they're gold, but nothing happens. Do you know why?
....
Kramer: No time. It's all these menial tasks. Laundry, grocery shopping, coming in here and talking to you. Do you have any idea how much time I waste in this apartment?
Jerry: I could ballpark it.
(Elaine enters)
Kramer: Here you go. Now, she comes in. My whole day is shot.

Now, we just have to shift the scene from Kramer's world into my world in Ecuador (both ridiculous worlds, just in different ways). There are so many projects that I want to get started or maintain, but there is so little time (only 24 hours in the day, and I have to spend part of that time eating fruit).

How can I possibly get all that I want to get accomplished if I only have 24 hours in the day?

Simply put, I can't.

Enter the two interns.

Hi, this is Darren from Mr. Kramer's offices. Mr. Kramer would like to schedule a lunch with you at Monk's Coffee Shop.

Just like NYU was enthusiastic about its kids getting some real-world experience in the case of Darren at Kramerica Industries, the local high school has similarly high hopes. So they have placed two students in my office.

OK, so Señor Robinson won't be using the interns to schedule his almuerzos, but they can get some great experience in some of our other projects.

In one week in our office, they have written a few articles for the newspaper, assisted with the design, learned the importance of saving your documents (especially when there is ever-present risk of power blackouts), and developed sales experience.

Next week, I see them helping launch a recycling program, assisting in newspaper distribution, and working in the nursery.

I don't foresee the interns doing the glamorous work that Darren did at Kramerica, like laundry, mending chicken wire, or having high tea with a Señor Newman. But I still see this as a productive experience for them.

Only about 950 hours of cumulative intern time left...

A Traditional Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving just isn't what it used to be: Lions football, shopping, drinking, movies, family.

That is not what the holiday is about.

In my understanding of Thanksgiving, the pilgrims killed turkeys and cooked pumpkin pie with the native Americans at Plymouth Rock as a goodwill gesture, a cultural exchange.

So in my first Thanksgiving outside of the States, I decided to hearken back to the holiday's roots. I could have gone up to Quito and eaten a traditional Thanksgiving, with the Lions losing in the background, and a movie in the afternoon. But, as I said, I wanted an even more traditional Thanksgiving.

So ... seventeen volunteers from my training group converged on a small jungle town south of Macas for a campo Thanksgiving.

My friend's original plan was to raise turkeys himself and then kill them. But he didn't quite plan far enough ahead. Fortunately, his neighbor had turkeys. Unfortunately, I didn't get into town in time for the slaughter. Rumor has it that it was what you would expect. There was no certified shokhet in town, so I did not partake in the turkey consumption.

But seeing as I don't really come from a big turkey-eating family, I didn't really feel left out. You see, my mom is a vegetarian and the rest of my family was never really into turkey. So instead of an actual turkey on Thanksgiving, we eat pizza in the shape of a turkey. I was going to make this for my friends but realized the ridiculous quantity of food that was going to be served and decided that pizza can wait.

I rolled into town at 5:45 AM on Thursday and almost immediately started to help in the kitchen. Special thanks to: my mom for shipping me a pie crust and pie filling and Ecuadorian Customs for not giving me a hard time.

Throughout the morning, we continued cooking as volunteers slowly filtered into town. By noon, the entire crew had amassed, and we headed off to a tourist complex for the meal. There was still quite a bit of prep work to be done, so the afternoon was passed by the grill. By about 5:00 PM everything was ready. I could describe it or just show you the images.



And in the spirit of the first Thanksgiving, we shared the event with some Ecuadorians in the cultural exchange that Peace Corps promotes. It was a great opportunity to let them participate in one of our country's great traditions: the food coma.

We went around the table, explaining what we were thankful for on this Thanksgiving. The common theme was being thankful for the opportunity and experience that we have and that we should think about this every day, not just on Thanksgiving. People were also thankful for their families (Peace Corps and actual).

By about 8:00, I was out.

The next day, we visited a Shuar community near the town. The Shuar are an indiginous group that lives in the Ecuadorian jungle. You might have heard of them from head-shrinking fame. After taking a stroll through the woods with some members from the tribe, we sat down to a traditional Shuar lunch — chicha (some type of fermented beverage that is very common in the sierra and jungle), meat-of-what-used-to-be-a-furry-animal, yucca, and tea.

Then after lunch, some of the kids from the community put on a little dance number. It felt uncomfortably touristy and Peace Corps volunteers don't really like to feel that touristy.



But whatever.

It was a Thanksgiving story with Native Americans — just like at Plymouth Rock.

After another day of hanging out in the jungle, I hauled overnight back to my site to start my traditional post-Thanksgiving diet of six mangos per day.

Please aim away

Is it too much to ask that I can walk down the street without getting peed on?

All I want to do is be able to pass through town without the risk of someone urinating on me.

But around here, apparently, that is too much to ask.

Like most places in the developing world, the sewage system in my town isn't always reliable. Sometimes there is no water. Sometimes you can't find a reliable public toilet.

So if you have to go and you don't have anywhere to go, you should just cozy up to a wall, out of sight, and write your name.

That would make sense, right?

That's not the way kids are taught in my town.

Two days ago, I was walking down the main street in town. I looked to my left and saw a kid, with his pants down, aiming toward the street. I looked behind the child and saw that his mom was holding her son in place so that he pees into the street

She was helping him aim and giving him guidance on where he should point his stream. Unfortunately, that stream was on my intended walking path. I got out of the way, but this isn't the first time I have come across such a situation.

I shouldn't have to watch out for people peeing in the streets or on the sidewalks.

I don't exactly know the specific health risks of living in an open-air septic pit, but they do exist. I just know that there are no public health benefits to having urine in the street.

That is why I have decided to start the "Aim Away" campaign in which we will teach parents and youth the benefits of pointing away from the street.

Even though the kids are committing the act, the mentality that it is acceptable to pee in the middle of the street starts with the parents. That is why we will hold workshops, some that might even last several days, to show people how and where to pee.

I understand the convenience of peeing in public. What I don't understand is why they teach their kids to do it in the middle of the street when it takes three seconds to turn around, go to the wall, and do it there. And I guarantee they have three seconds to spare because, in this society, someone is considered on time even if they are half an hour late.

Really, all I want is to be able to walk down the street without having to worry about a urine stream or splash getting on my pants or shoes.

---

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving.

Se llama kugel

As I have mentioned in my previous posts, I have high expectations for the world of kugel in global development.

Here is my first bit of proof.

Taking my example and recipe, one of my friends in town made her first kugel.

It was based on the pecan noodle kugel with a banana twist. It had received rave reviews at the previous three shabbat dinners at my home and the locals wanted to try their hand at the kugel craft.

I did not know when she planned on making the kugel. All I know is that she was planning on making one. So I walk into her house and her three-year-old son is eating kugel at the kitchen table.

Ian: Hola Pierro.
Pierro: Hola Ian.
Ian: What are you eating?
Pierro: Se llama kugel. (It's called kugel)

Top six greatest moments of my life, being taught by an Ecuadorian toddler how to pronounce kugel.

Two great kugel-related posts in three days.

Well, aren't you lucky?

Yes, you are.

I doubt that it will be three in four days. But if the kugel revolution takes off as planned ... you might just get your wish.

How to connect a canoe to a truck

Well, if you think that you knew how to secure a canoe to a truck, let me tell you another way to do it.

A much faster way to do it.

Step 1: Using a short rope, tie one end of the canoe to a stick wedged between the cab and the bed (loop, swoop, and pull method works best)

Step 2: Because the canoe is so long, you won't be able to close the lift gate So just let it hang.

Step 3: Now comes the most important part. You are going to need to put some weight on the canoe so it doesn't move around. Look for the heaviest person in your party and place them ``securely`` at the front end of the canoe and have him/her stand in the bow of the boat.

Step 4: Drive, preferably on bumpy, rut-filled roads or the Panamerican Hwy.

Step 5: Pray.

It's only four steps.

So easy.

One kugel can change the world

Some might think they have the solution for how to improve the quality of life in the developing world.

Mohammad Yunis won the Nobel Peace Prize for microfinance.

Sustainable agriculture is all the rage these days.

Others believe that education is the key.

Every one of these might fill a piece of the puzzle, but I have found out what they are all missing.

Kugel.

Through this most traditional of Jewish foods, I believe that we can drastically improve living conditions in the developing world, tikun olam if you will.

Every Friday night, I cook shabbat dinner at my house. I invite some of my friends from the community over so that they can share in my favorite part of the week. It is quickly becoming their favorite part of the week.

Every week, we cook something different, but there are a few staples: challah and kugel. Even though I cook ample portions, there are rarely leftovers of either dish.

Last week, my friends told me that he thinks people in town would love the Pecan Noodle Kugel with banana and probably pay for it.

As a Peace Corps volunteer, I am not allowed to make money. But that comment got me thinking:

What group am I involved in that could use the kugel as a fundraiser?

And what is the group that I have been working the most lately?

The community newsletter.

Soon, I will teach the staff how to make the kugel so that we can increase the sustainability of the newspaper project. I still have to do a cost analysis of the whole endeavor and figure out all of the logistics, but the seed has been planted.

So what are the benefits to society of having more kugels? How exactly will this repair the world, in other words?

1. Quality of life - There have been scientific studies that prove people who eat kugel are happier.

2. Food security - Kugels are very easy to make and can occasionally be not unhealthy. It's at least more nutritious than rice.

3. Micro business - Someone could take this project and open up a kugel-only bakery/restaurant/cafe.

4. Cultural awareness - You expand people's understanding of other cultures.

5. Creativity - I like to think of kugel as the canvas, not the painting. There are infinite possibilities of the kugel. And in a culture that doesn't foster creativity very well, people cane express themselves through kugel.

Well, that is just five of the possible benefits to humanity of kugel promotion.

To make a long story short, within ten years I expect to win the Nobel Prize for kugel. I think they should make it a new category, alongside medicine, physics, peace, and economics.

You might be thinking "Ian, you are pretty much just promoting a bake sale. And why are you restricting it to kugel when there are so many other things that you could also include?"

Valid point, but if I made that clear earlier, the rest of the post wouldn't have been as outstanding.

Hangover day

Thursday was neither a holiday, nor did it carry any civic significance.

Yet, there was no work in city hall.

There high schools were out.

The schools didn't have class.

Even the pre-school was closed.

Thursday was officially hangover day in my town.

With the fiestas finishing with the big bash Wednesday night, all of these institutions decided to close down for the day to allow their employees to recover from a long night (and early morning) of celebrating.

It felt like a Sunday morning on a university campus. Except that it was a Thursday, and the entire town was dead.

In the U.S., we don't really have the officially sanctioned hangover days. The nights of big partying come the night before holidays, so that people don't lose a day of work. You have New Year's Eve and pre-Thanksgiving bar night. But the day after the Super Bowl everybody is expected to be at work on time. The Tuesday after civic holidays aren't treated any differently. But here, we got the day off.

I'm not complaining about having the day off of work, which I didn't really take because I went to Machala to take care of some errands, but I'm just confused by the reasoning for this day off and the message it is passing on to the society and how this mentality, in some way, might explain a lot about the society in which I live.

I could really go on an on about my opposition to these types of vacation days, but to save space I'll just say that I don't agree with the policy and leave it at that.

That's not part of the routine

For the last two weeks, my town has been in fiesta mode.

You can find the schedule of the fiestas by reading this excellent publication, which was put together by some of the local youth, but that's besides the point of this post.

The fiestas end on the anniversary of our town's founding. In the morning, they mark the event with a giant parade.

The parade is giant in many ways. First, the entire town comes out for it — plus most of the neighboring town. Second, it lasts six hours.

Six hours.

It started at 9:00 a.m. and lasted until 3:00 p.m.

And it's not like there was much variety in the groups that marched. The pattern was typically high school war band playing the same melody followed by a group of students marching followed by an elementary school followed by a group of citizens walking followed by another high school war band playing the same melody.

I contend that Arenillas needs a bobsled team.

While the people who were watching the parade started to lose enthusiasm for what was going on and began milling about after a while, likewise the parade participants were also beginning to lose interest.

Look at this photo of a group of high school professors in the parade. Notice anything odd.



Luckily, with the help of computer technology, I can zoom in and point out ridiculousness.



But he wasn't the only one to take more interest in the news than the parade, a parade in which they were marching. Numerous people broke formation to buy a newspaper during the route.

Taking a load off

About a month ago, I realized that my neighbor's compost pile was lacking carbon.

I could have simply resorted to any of the convenient carbon sources that I encounter daily: dry leaves, rice shells, wood ash.

But I didn't.

I decided to contribute a little bit of myself to his pile.

After nearly eight months of growing my hair out into an outstanding Jewfro, it was time to get that mop under control.

Actually, it was more of a realization.

I can't think of a single experience that pushed me over the edge. I think a culmination of months of kids yelling "Michael Jackson" every time I walked down the street. Plus there was the time the little girl called me ugly. Plus there was the hair blocking my sight. And the weight.

So ... I decided to look for a barber.

The thing about me and my hair is that we don't trust anyone. The same woman cut my hair for more than fifteen years (I don't really remember when I started going there). A few times, I tried other places, out of convenience, but it just wasn't the same. Then, she moved to another state, and I had to face reality. My hair and I had to become more trusting ... which would be great practice for the Peace Corps.

I went to Coach and Four in Ann Arbor. They didn't really do a great job, but the atmosphere was great. I don't know if they had seen my quality of afro for thirty years, so I forgave them. Then, I went to a Russian guy, in his basement. He gave me the shortest haircut of my life, and probably the cheapest. Then I left for the Peace Corps — prepared to grow it out for two years if I couldn't find a half-decent barber.

Well, the verdict about my town is that there is no decent, let alone half-decent barbershop.

The other volunteer in town got her hair cut and was unhappy to say the least. Her haircut was so bad that even I noticed. Then, when another volunteer was in town visiting, they both decided to give it a shot. It couldn't be worse than the local butcher.

I'll let the following photo essay describe the experience

1. Not the most pleasant experience of my life



2. I need 350cc of Soul Glo, stat.



3. From this, I then shaved down to a mustache, which has since been eliminated to maintain my good standing in the community.



4. My kitchen floor



5. That is no dead animal in the compost pile



During the actual haircut, the stylists found tons of organic matter (nothing that was moving), which should pan out really well for the compost. It was mostly just twigs and leaves. I told me neighbor that I was adding my hair to his compost and he was totally stoked.

Some of my Peace Corps friends thought I should plant some seeds in there and see what happens. That would be a bit ridiculous and require me to sleep sitting up and spent a lot of time in the sun. I like a ridiculous experience as much as the next guy, but that would have pushed the line.

The next morning, I had to teach in the high school. When I walked into class, some of the students gave me a standing ovation.

AREvista

In this town of 17,000 people, there is no community newsletter.

Well, that was until last week - when a group of twenty high school students decided to do something about that.

With the technical assistance of a two Peace Corps and a municipal employee, the kids put published the first edition of AREvista.

You can find a pdf copy of the newspaper by clicking on the link.

AREvista

If you any comments on what the youth can do better for the December edition, consider this a place where you can pass your message to them - until the paper has its own website.

Procrastination doesn`t translate

There is no word in Spanish for procrastination.

Now there might well be a word for it.

But the people in my town are not aware of it.

I have asked around and explained the idea to several of them. The general response is: that`s the way we do things.

Which is very obvious, now, in the height of the local fiesta season.

A major part of the local fiestas are the big ferias where the people show off what they have been doing all year - or what they whipped up in the last week to show off what they say they have been doing all year.

So people have been rushing together to put their things together. Last week, some farmers wanted me to whip together some organic compost really quickly, some school directors wanted my groups to change the world overnight, and someone who I had never talked to approached me about helping out.

To say the least, this town has a do it at the last minute culture.

Tis the season

October 30th, I was walking down the street when I looked in the window of one of the homes.

They were putting up the Christmas tree.

I looked at my calendar to make sure I wasn´t a month behind.

I wasn´t.

That was an actual Christmas tree (well, a plastic one), with Christmas ornaments adorning a house in my neighborhood.

A couple of days later, another neighbor had their lights going.

I´m excited to see how the holiday season goes in Ecuador, but I wasn´t quite ready for the holiday season in October 30. I mean, you still have Halloween, Dia de Los Muertos, and the town´s fiestas before you even sniff the middle of November.

All of those would seem like logical moments from which you could then move forward into the holiday season. But then again, every day I learn more and more about the culture in which I´m living.

You decide

Two points of view on why there have been turning on and off the power recently.

The first comes from someone at city hall.

Many people base their judgment of whether or not the mayor is doing a good job on whether or not the fiestas go off without a hitch.

To ensure that there will be power at tonight´s Miss Arenillas beauty pageant, he has instituded a program of roving blackouts.

Their logic being that if the mayor can´t even get the lights to work during the party, then he must not know what he is doing. But if he can turn the lights and sound on, then he has things under control and is doing a good job.

The second perspective comes from the Xinhua news agency:

The Ecuadorian government on Thursday announced a plan to ration electricity for two hours a day because the country's major dams have recorded low levels of water due to a prolonged drought.

The Paute-Molino central hydropower station on the Paute River generates about 35 percent of the electricity consumed in Ecuador.

The water volume in the river is now below its historical minimum, said Electricity and Renewable Energy Minister Esteban Albornoz.

Albornoz said priority would be given to the production sectors and residential zones would have the rationing of two hours daily till the problem was solved.

The drought has affected Colombia, which exports electricity to Ecuador, and has reduced its supply, Albornoz added.

You can decide which solution you want. The mayor better hope that if its option number two, that the power doesn´t go out during the pageant or Wednesday´s dances.

Fruit Ripener

If you go to the market and the fruit isn't quite as ripe as you would hope for, I learned an easy way to speed up the process

Now, it could be that everybody already knows this but I don't really spend much time allowing fruit ripen. I'm of the "Oh, there's fruit and I want to eat it right now" school.

Anyway, I went to the store down the street and asked about what fruit they have in stock. The woman told me that her husband brought some mangos from the farm, but they're not quite ready.

I said that's fine. I can let them sit out to mature or just eat them green

Curious person: You can eat mangos green?
Ian: They're not as good as a well-matured mango but the kids love them. In fact, there are little mango carts that wait outside the high school toward the end of school day. My issue with the cart mango is that they put salt and lime on it, and I think that ruins that glory of the mango flavor.

Then the woman told me that ripening would take several days, which I knew but was willing to be a patient. She told me I could wrap the fruit in newspaper and it would be ready soon.

Then I asked how tightly the fruit needed to be wrapped. She said it depended on how soon you want the fruit to ripen. If you aren't in a rush wrap loosely. If you want the fruit for tomorrow, you're going to want to make sure that thing is nice and tight.

Apparently, this will also work for banana products.

Perhaps you and the whole world already know about this ripening trip and that I have always been privileged to procure with perfect produce. (How about that alliteration)

To update you on the situation:

One day into the ripening process, the fruits are not quite ready to eat. There may end up being some truth to this process, just not overnight results like I wanted.

Halloween Costume

Ecuador doesn`t really do Halloween.

But that shouldn`t stop a Peace Corps Volunteer from enjoying this tradition.

I had my costume all planned out.

I was going to be a Bonice salesman. This is a topic that merits its own blog post, but Bonice salesman are everywhere in Ecuador, selling their freeze pops and flavored yogurts. They sell for 25 cents and are very popular.

The salesman`s uniform had a hilarious polar bear on it. The uniform also includes a fanny pack. Here is an example of what Bonice guy looks like but he wasn`t wearing his full uniform at the top, so you don`t get the full effect.



I asked the Bonice salesman at the local high school if I could borrow his uniform for the night. First, he didn`t understand me and told me that he could get me a job as Bonice salesman if I wanted (if this whole Peace Corps thing falls through, I have a fallback). Then I clarified what I was asking for, and he agreed to meet me at 3 p.m. in from of the high school.

He wasn`t there. And I gave him the full hora ecuatoriana.

Had to start thinking fast. The people were going to come over, the kugel wasn`t made yet, and I hadn`t even though about the mango crisp. Now, I have to get a new Halloween costume. I had settled on the Bonice guy costume my third week in Ecuador. Other costume ideas were so far away from my frame of thought that I was in a bit of a panic.

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

Costume inventory in my wardrobe: Ridiculous adidas tank top
Costume inventory on my person: facial hair (hair cut happened in the last two weeks that will be recapped soon)

Question: How can I combine these two things to make the most ridiculous costume possible in the time allowed?

Answer: I shaved down to a mustache and went as an adidas ad.



Impossible is nothing.

For 23 years, people doubted my ability to grow a mustache. While it might not be so full, it is there (even with a gap in the middle that my father says never really fills in).

Plus, I`m wearing a tanktop, which I never wear.

But Ian, how did you get this all done and cook at the same time?

Multitasking.