A View From Afar

In Quito, people often sing on the busses for money.  Sometimes they bring a cd to back themselves up and sometimes not – regardless, the songs all sound similar and the singing is usually mediocre.  I try not to listen, because I can’t give money to everyone and this saddens me.  However, one Sunday morning, I listened. 

That morning, a boy got on my bus and started to sing.  He was slight; I placed him at 11- or 12-years-old.  He was easily the youngest singer I had seen.  His voice was pure, clear and perfectly on pitch.  The sound made me stop and listen.  Here is what he sang:

“When I went to New York, I went to find my love.  But on the day I got there, the terrorists killed her.  They killed her when they took the Twin Towers.  Now I am In New York alone; I never got to see my love because the terrorists took her away.”

In a matter of seconds my benign interest evaporated, replaced by feelings much stronger and much more surprising.  “How dare he sing about this?”  I found myself thinking, “How dare he sing about something he can’t possibly understand?”  He had no idea what it was like to live through that day.  No idea what it was like to struggle to comprehend the images of raw destruction, hate, and suffering on the television as a nine-year-old child.  He could not possibly understand taste of fear and anger in the air for weeks afterward, with news and heartbreaking stories ever-present on the television, radio, newspapers, and street-corners, and all the adults on edge (trying and failing to hide it).  These events, the people who were lost, and the families who were hurt were real, yet this 12-year-old kid was singing about them on a bus like they were just another fairy tail from times long past, and it offended me.

I was taken aback that this bothered me so much.  I do not consider myself an especially patriotic person.  On the contrary, I often think that people go a little overboard with their love of America.  Yet here I was, feeling such solidarity with my country and it’s history.  I was very surprised to feel so strongly American.

Part of the reason these feelings surprised me is that while living abroad I have had the opportunity to look at the United States from the outside, and I have not always been pleased by what I have seen.  The US embassy in Quito (2 blocks from my house) is a colossal stone block of a building, surrounded by a whole city block’s worth of empty grounds and an enormous, thick, black metal wall.  The US ambassador lives in a giant house, complete with domestic employees, in one of the most opulent neighborhoods of the city.  What kind of messages do these things send?

  

As a person from the United States (I hesitate to overuse the word, ‘American,’ because, as Ecuadorians have reminded me, South Americans consider themselves American too), I am continually judged.  People assume I cannot speak Spanish.  People assume I am easy.  People assume I have an excess of money (I have had people ask me how much money I make, how much money my parents make, how much money my college costs, if my parents pay for college, how much rent is, if my parents are sending me money while I am here…).  I have had to explain to people that not everyone in the United States agrees with the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, nor are all North Americans against immigration.  It is one thing to hear in the US than many people in the greater world see us as loud, rich people from a self-centered country that will do what it pleases to have its way and maintain power in the world, and another to experience it.

As much as these assumptions bother me, I can hardly fault people for believing in them because we have certainly given the world enough reason to believe they're right.  In many ways the US comes across as self centered and elitist.  While obtaining my Ecuadorian visa was hardly more than filling out some symbolic paperwork, Ecuadorians (and people all over the world) go though an arduous, stressful, and expensive process to attain the right to visit the US.  Just to apply for a visa that is seldom awarded, Ecuadorians must pay and present themselves at the embassy for an interview.  My 27-year-old host-aunt was recently turned down for a short-term visa (as we learned when she came home in tears) because she didn't have "strong enough family ties" here in Ecuador - the country where her parents, her son, and all her siblings live.  Why should I have the right to travel where ever my heart desires, when the friends and family that welcome me into their country and culture have little chance of being able to experience mine?

It bothers me that so many in the US have the attitude that the US is the epitome of human society, and that, as was so often proclaimed in the recent presidential debates, the US is without a doubt the best country in the world.  It bothers me that so many feel that we have the right, or even the obligation, to go in and interfere with other governments, economies, cultures, and lives "to improve" them by making them more like us.  What bothers me the most is that, while the majority of citizens who feel this way are genuinely good hearted in those intentions, all too often the motivation of our government and corporations seems to be, not the good of humanity, but the gain of US political and economic interests, and the financial profit of the few at the very top of American society.  An idealist would refute this, a cynic claim this is always the case.  Maybe the truth lies somewhere in the middle.

However, for all the distasteful aspects I see in the United States, living abroad has led me to appreciate many things as well.  A stable political system, ease of international travel, true freedom of speech, female empowerment, LGBT awareness and acceptance – these are all luxuries that I have had the privilege to enjoy as a citizen of the United States, and privileges that I hope never to take for granted again.  There are aspects of US culture that I am not proud of, there are aspects of US culture that disgust me, but I also recognize that it is because I am from the United States that I am able to speak out about these issues, and that my US citizenship gives me the ability to travel and experience the world from another perspective - which is what allowed these issues to come to my attention.

Sometimes we need to be reminded of the value of what we have.  Sandy, my host-mom, recently commented that the US is lucky not to have poverty.  I struck her down immediately - there are plenty of people in the US that struggle to get by, sometimes without adequate clothing or a place to live, I said.

“That may be true,” she replied, “but in the United States those people do not die of hunger.  That kind of poverty only exists in the rest of the world.”

For a wonderful reflection on cultural identity, globalization, and what it means to be a 'gringa', I highly recommend you read Alyssa's most recent blog post.  It is quite eloquent, and sums up many of my own thoughts on the complicated subject nicely.

The Very Best Vacation

You know that amazing feeling when you do something you’ve always dreamed of, and it exceeds all your expectations?  My recent trip to the Galapagos Islands was just that.  I have fantasized about traveling to las Galapagos since middle school when my teacher, Joe, took a trip there and brought back tantalizing pictures and stories.  College biology classes with focuses on the Galapagos wildlife deepened both my desire to visit the islands and my understanding of their significance.  So, when our plane touched down on Isla Baltra on Saturday, I was almost as excited as my friend Savannah, who let out a loud “WHOOP!” the moment the tires hit the ground and scared everyone on the plane.

We stepped onto the tarmac into amazingly pure air (especially compared to that of exhaust-filled Quito), and I surveyed my surroundings.  I was surprised by how desert-like the land was – an expanse of barren lava rock with small shrubs and tall cactuses.  As we traveled through the islands, we encountered areas of very lush foliage more like the scenes I had imagined, very similar to coastal Ecuador; the type of ecosystem depends on the soil and the direction of the winds that bring moisture to the area.

We spent one night in Puerto Ayora on Isla Santa Cruz, which is one of the more human developed and tourist filled islands.  I went cliff jumping, which startled me the first time I jumped because it was the first time in my life I have been in free fall long enough for it to register before I landed.  I almost forgot to hold my breath!  We also visited a tortoise refuge and made lots of tortoise friends.  These huge land tortoises are called 'Galapagos' in Spanish, hence the name Galapagos Islands! 

View from the top of the cliffs

One of the galapagos

The shell was VERY heavy!

The 2.5-hour boat ride to our next stop, Isla Isabela, was sunny and blue: blue sky, blue water, and blue life jackets.  Isabela is beautiful, and has a much smaller human population than Santa Cruz.  Our program director, Daniel, surprised us with a beautiful beachfront hostel, and we spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing on the beach.  The breezy temperatures in the high 70s, deserted white-sand beaches, and subtle humidity reminded me irresistibly of summer in Northern Michigan.  I know it's not every day that you hear Lake Michigan compared to a Pacific island, but Isabela was that pleasant!  ;)

Colleen and Me

Our "private" beach

We spent the next three days on Isabela checking off items from our bucket lists and learning quite a bit about geology and ecology along the way.  There is so much I could say about everything we did!  However, I will stick to highlights: I hiked to the top of the second largest crater volcano in the world, Volcán Sierra Negra, which is 10km across and last erupted in 2005.  While snorkeling I saw so many fish that I felt like I was in the middle of Finding Nemo.  I swam within inches of sea turtles and sea lions, and stayed a little farther away from the stingrays and reef sharks.  I saw animals and plants that exist nowhere else on earth, including marine iguanas, Darwin's finches, and the only penguins native to a tropical habitat.  Possibly most unbelievable of all, I ate swordfish and lobster and genuinely liked them!

The crater of Volcán Sierra Negra

Savannah has an underwater camera!

Thanks again, Savannah!

One of the more unique aspects of the trip was the abundance of wildlife.  The stories about the animals’ lack of fear are true; I was continually impressed with their indifference towards humans.  Living in a place like Galapagos, the animals have neither innate fear, as there are very few predators on the islands, or learned fear because the national park status ensures that the animals are well respected by visitors.  I liked the sea lions and Blue Footed Boobies the best, the sea lions for their playfulness in the water, and the Boobies for their beautiful blue feet and their graceful synchronized dives for fish.  I saw more iguanas than I knew what to do with.

All in all, trip was very refreshing on many levels.  First, it was a wonderfully relaxing break from school and bustling, noisy Quito.  However, more than that, I found Galapagos to be in much better shape than I expected.  Having read about the devastating effects of tourism, I arrived on the Islands ready to see an ecosystem ravaged by humans, but the reality was a pleasant surprise.  I found a place extremely well preserved and, on islands like Isabela, minimally impacted by human intrusion.  In fact, rather than doing damage, many human programs, like turtle hatcheries, are helping!  This is not to say that the Galapagos are prefect by any means.  Humans undoubtedly have negatively impacted the islands in the past, and even ecologically conscious tourism takes its toll.  For example, our boat driver told me that he used to see dolphins frequently, but he now rarely sees them due to an increase in boat traffic.  Daniel told me he gets a little more disillusioned with every visit.  However, in a semester where we have seen so many examples of irreversible environmental damage by the hands of humans and I have felt powerless to help, it lifted my heart to experience a place where conservation and care are standard and the hope for positive change is tangible.

October

Whew!  After several weeks full of studying, exams, and presentations, midterm has finally passed!  In the last few weeks the emphasis has definitely been STUDY abroad, but now I can go back to study ABROAD because we have a whole week off from classes and I am spending it in the Galapagos Islands!  I will take lots of pictures and share them with you all when I get back, but until then, here are two stories about life in Quito.

1. Bombolí

Last weekend I smelled two types of decay.  The first was when we stopped on the side of the highway on the way to Bombolí.  The trash bags thrown carelessly over the guardrail and onto the mountain slope had split open and their contents were festering.  The stench was disgusting; it was vile and burned my nose even through the folds of my scarf.  We looked beyond the trash and studied the rolling landscape; ridges that should have been covered with lush green cloud forest were brown, burned with forest fires caused by careless people.  The soil layer here, about an hour outside of Quito, is so thin that the forest almost grows right out of the rock, and fire damage can take up to 1000 years to repair.

This mountain is hurting.

The second decay I smelled was sweet, moist, spicy and full.  We walked through the wooded trails of Bombolí, crunching leaves and squelching in mud, and I couldn’t get enough of it; that smell of trees, dirt, and rain – the smell of life!  It took me back to a childhood full of running barefoot through the backyard and walking through the woods with my dad.

Dandelions :)

Bombolí is a large swath of land owned by an Ecuadorian couple, Oswaldo and Mariana.  Thirty years ago they built their house, which is not connected to electricity, and have lived there ever since, dedicating their lives to conserving their piece of paradise.  The difference between Bombolí and the land that surrounds it is striking.  As we walked, Oswaldo stopped to show us all sorts of things, from the quality of the soil, to a 600-year-old fern, to a tiny orchid flower.  “People need to go out and be in nature more,” he said, “we nourish life and life nourishes us, and the only way to combat nature’s destruction is through education.” 

Bombolí

On the bus ride home we learned that the government wants to build a tunnel through Bombolí because the current road has had problems with landslides (caused by erosion due to lack of vegetation), and Oswaldo and Mariana may have to sell their land, because they are getting too old to maintain it.

2. Rain

The rainy season (“winter”) has started here in Quito, which means that most days are overcast and cooler (65°F rather than 75°F) and it rains almost every day between 3 and 5 pm.  One day a few weeks ago, Alyssa and I were walking to her house from the bus when it was raining very, very hard.  As we were trying to cross the main street (with 3 lanes on either side), we got stuck on the median.  We didn’t think of anything of it, this usually happens when we try to cross that street.  However, this time when the cars started rushing past, they deluged us with waist high waves of water.  We both jumped and screamed, and then tried to use an umbrella as a shield while laughing uncontrollably, much to the amusement of the people safe on the sidewalk.  The shield was ineffective; we were soaked within seconds.

Tiny Miracles

Wednesday mornings are one of my favorite times of the week.  I volunteer at Clinica la Primavera, a clinic specializing in natural water births, Tuesday nights from 7pm – 7am.  La Clinica is situated on top of a large hill in Cumbayá, about 10 minutes bus ride from the university.  Wednesday morning, as the sun rises over the mountains, I leave the clinic and walk the 15 minutes down the hill to the bus stop.  I feel as though I am walking back down to the real world from a calm refuge of peace and perfection.  Up above the city, the view is spectacular.  As I walk, I relish the fresh quality of the chilly air; it has not yet been tainted with pollution or lost the damp smell of dew.  The pure rays of first morning sunlight sink into my skin, warming me inside and out, but my mind is still in la Clinica with the families, thinking of a mother’s strength and the promise of a new life.  On Wednesday mornings, I feel complete.

Outside of la Clinica

The view from the top of the hill (fuzzy because it's through the window)

I love my work at la Clinica and look forward to it every week.  The atmosphere of the clinic is wonderful!  It is very different from the stereotypical intimidating white-walled doctor’s office.  The bedspreads are colorful and the walls are covered with bright paintings done by the doctor, Diego.  He and his wife, Dr. Liliana, own the clinic.  The doctors and nurses at la Clinica are extremely friendly, and have welcomed me into their family with open arms.

Clinica la Primavera’s basis is the idea of natural, humanistic birth.  Mothers here have the right to decide who is present in the birthing room and what position they would like to be in.  Medication is seldom used and the doctors do not bother the mothers by poking and prodding them very often.  Women are given as much time as they need to give birth, without unnecessary medical intervention to rush them.  When the women are in the final stages of labor (when they are ready to push), they get into the big tub in the birthing room.  This room is very warm and inviting, with candles, stones, small sculptures, and what I would call “yoga music” (I particularly get a kick out of the cd of monks chanting Simon and Garfunkel songs).  If I were going to have a baby, I would want to give birth somewhere like Clinica la Primavera (Mom before you say anything, no, this is not in my immediate life plans).

The doors to the birthing room

"La Tina" (The Tub)

When I am at la Primavera, I spend most of my time working with the Doulas, who are similar to midwives.  In the six weeks I have been going to la Clinica, I have helped with five births.  We help the mothers throughout their labor by giving them massages, facilitating movement and dancing, suggesting positions, making sure they are comfortable, and helping them relax through breathing exercises; but most of all we are a steady presence by their side providing comfort, support, and reassurance.

In Spanish, the phrase ‘giving birth’ is ‘dar la luz,’ which translates literally to, ‘to give light.’  I love the poetic quality of these words.  I love the beauty they imply, because they communicate how beautiful birth is.  Of course there is a lot of pain involved, and if you don’t like body fluids then helping soon-to-be-mothers is probably not for you, but there’s just something about it that resonates with me.  I love how powerful and strong the women are – so focused and calm in spite of the pain of labor.  I love the intensity of the connection between the woman and her partner; a bond so strong and full of love that it’s nearly palpable.  I love the first few moments of a baby’s life; I am always struck with the infinite potential that lies in each tiny being.  It’s really amazing to be able to watch the first interactions between mother and child. 

Dr. Diego captured this wonderful moment

However, that’s not to say that there are never problems.  The first time I helped with a birth, the woman had gone into labor at 32 weeks, or about 2 months early.  After a very long labor, the baby finally slipped out.  He was blue and limp.  He did not open his eyes or move.  I had been helping from behind; as I supported the woman’s back, she supported her seemingly lifeless baby.  I couldn’t breathe; “this baby must be dead,” was all I could think.  I didn’t know what to do.  But Dr. Diego quickly reported that the baby had a strong heartbeat and started helping the infant breathe with a bag that he pumped with his hand.  I couldn’t help but think of how different the situation would have been if the baby had been born at the University of Iowa, where I had an internship this summer.  He would have been whisked away and put on a ventilator and IVs immediately.  However, I sometimes wonder if all the Iowa medicine really would have served him better, because after about an hour he began breathing on his own, and the next day went home with his parents.  Another frightening situation was the last birth I helped with, which ended in an emergency C-section.  The woman had begun writhing and wailing in pain; the baby’s head was too big and her pelvic bones had begun to swell.  I was struck with how awful it would be to watch a woman die like that, as would have happened 100 years ago, and my respect for midwives of old rose immensely.  However, as we are now in the 21^st century, no one came close to dying; the surgery went smoothly and a beautiful baby boy was welcomed into the world.

Another shot by Dr. Diego, after a C-Section

Whether the birth goes smoothly or the doctors need to step in to help, every new life I witness come into the world really is a miracle.  Every baby seems so perfect!  Maybe I only feel this way because the experience is still new to me, and after a while I will get used to it and stop feeling so amazed.  But then again, maybe not.

Pure perfection

We take photos like the ones included in this post of every birth; more can be found here.  Here is a video that shows a lot of the things that we do at la Clinica (heads up, at about 2:20 the actual birth is shown, only watch it if you want to).

Meaning

When I left for Ecuador, I had no idea what to expect.  The only information I had to form my expectations was my program’s excursion itinerary, and blogs and stories from friends who had studied abroad in the past.  Thus, the only thing I knew to expect was a steady stream of new experiences and adventures that “would change my life and who I was.”  I never stopped to think about the fact that it is hard to fill five months with constant novelty, and that not every day could be wonderful.  It took six rocky weeks and some introspection to realize that daily life in Ecuador would have the same ups and downs as anywhere else I have lived, and that it is silly to expect anything different.  This is not to say that I have been unhappy these last two months; on the contrary, I have been enjoying myself and have done some truly amazing things, but all the highs have been accompanied with their fair share of lows.  This caused me to reconsider what my semester abroad means and what I should expect it to bring.

What, then, does it mean to live for a semester in Ecuador?  Certainly not a five-month long vacation.  But if not that, then what?  I have thought a lot about what it means to live in this beautiful, contradictory country, and I have written a piece that I hope provides a glimpse into life here that is true to the whole experience.  Of course, this is life through my eyes; written by anyone else this would read completely differently, so please don’t take my words as the world written in stone.  I have learned that it is dangerous to take other’s experiences too literally.  What does it mean to live in Ecuador?

Living in Ecuador means living at the center of the world. It means no seasons. It means remembering to put on sunscreen every morning, or risk being burned, because the sun is so strong.

Living in Ecuador means waiting at the bus stop every day, gazing out at the mountains through the gap in the walls, and realizing anew, “I am living in the middle of the Andes.”  It means being present in a land so rich with history that the past is palpable with every step and visible in every face.

Living in Ecuador means sustaining the rice farmers, the bread makers, and the fruit growers.  It means a mid-morning coffee for a dollar and hot chocolate every night.  It means missing pasta and my father’s cooking.

Living in Ecuador means living amongst the people.  It means my personal space bubble evaporating with every packed bus ride.  It means men of all ages whistling, cat-calling, trying to dance without asking, staring without shame, and it means hearing the wrong words – “good morning, pretty girls,” when it is 6 o’clock at night.  It means walking quickly, looking nowhere but the ground, and trying not to listen.

Living in Ecuador means a cow on a leash crossing the road.  It means a constant soundtrack of Latin American music mixed with 80s hits from the States.  It means being taller than everyone even though the women are all wearing heels.  It means wanting to put out a public service announcement about how to avoid underwear lines.

Living in Ecuador means spending too much time on Facebook.  It means needing to talk to my mother but having nothing to say when I finally get her on the line.  It means an incessant stream of thoughts and plans for “when I get back to the States,” and wondering why I always look so far ahead and can never seem to be completely happy with wherever I am.

Living in Ecuador means conflicting ideas.  It means being annoyed with the constant construction, but impressed with the impeccable roads.  It means going to school with the rich kids while passing grubby children peddling gum and clementines.  It means wanting desperately to conserve our environment, but still buying foods wrapped in three layers of plastic at the supermarket.  It means being welcomed into a family, but really missing doing my own laundry.

Living in Ecuador means just that – living.  It means doing homework and missing my alarm and buying over-priced shampoo, going to bed brain-dead from a day full of so much Spanish.  It means running through an oasis of trees in a jungle of streets and pollution.  It means finding more questions than answers.

Living in Ecuador means being alive, and finding happiness in the fact that every day I wake up with the sun shining on my face, knowing that there are people all around the world who love me no matter how far away I am.

Relaxation Station

Is everyone familiar with the game of Trust Fall?  I was introduced to this game in a team building class in middle school, when we all took turns falling backwards off of a picnic table into the waiting arms of our classmates.  Well, I can now say that I have done the Trust Fall in Ecuador!  I was on a bus on the way to the university.  As the bus pulled into the station, I stood up and moved into the aisle, along with everyone else, in preparation to get off.  Just as I got to my feet, the bus came to a VERY abrupt stop; and that’s when I played Trust Fall!  The thing is, no one else knew they were playing.  I toppled backwards full-force (backpack first) into the mass of people in the aisle, probably hitting several of them in the face (I am taller than most Ecuadorians).  We are lucky no one got injured.  I scrambled up, apologizing to everyone, “¡lo siento, perdón, lo siento!” as I shuffled my way off the bus, before almost running to my next bus.

This is what I should have been doing.

However, not to worry, I survived and four weeks into classes things are going pretty well.  I wrote the discussion of my first Spanish scientific paper (for a group project), and I have started working on my first jewelry project: kayak paddle earrings!  I am reading La Grandeza de la Vida, a translation of a Steven Jay Gould book, for evolution, and it is pretty interesting.

Last weekend I spent a very relaxing two days in a town called Baños with Alyssa and Tori, another friend from Juniata.  Baños, named for it’s natural hot springs pools, is about a 3.5-hour bus ride South of Quito.  The town is situated at the foot of the volcano Tungurahua.  It has quite the adventure vibe; tourists (Ecuadorian and international alike) come to Baños to hike, bike, zip-line, bungee jump, and, of course, to swim in the pools.  Tungurahua has been spitting smoke lately, so our principle reason to go to Baños was to try to see an active volcano in action.  Unfortunately, we were not able to see anything because clouds covered the volcano all weekend, but this did not stop us from having a great time!

Baños

I really enjoyed Baños because it is so different from Quito.  The atmosphere is very relaxed and the setting is beautiful!  Everything around is green.  When we arrived, it was raining!!  This is the first rain I have experienced in two months, because it is the dusty, dry season in Quito.  I realized I’ve missed the sound of raindrops.  After the rain stopped, we went on a hike, got a massage (something I should do more often), and took a night bus up to a scenic overlook.  Then on Sunday we went to the pools bright and early at 7:15am.  Even at this hour, they were PACKED!  However, the 110°F water made up for the damage inflicted on my personal space bubble.  After returning to our hostel for a delicious breakfast of bread, jam, and eggs, we spent the rest of the day sitting in a coffee shop called Casa Hood.  In my opinion, Casa Hood is the best of the many colorful coffee shops in Baños.  Inside is warm and inviting, with great music and a whole wall of books!  The small menu is filled with international dishes, such as curry and pad thai.  It may not have been very authentically Ecuadorian, but as I sat drinking the best mocha I have had since arriving here and listening to Simon and Garfunkel, I felt incredibly content.  Casa Hood provided me with a lot of the things I miss about living in the US.  Tori and Alyssa felt the same, so we spent over three hours there before catching our bus back to the crowded streets of Quito.

One of Baños' cafés (not Casa Hood)

Inside Café Hood, sister to Casa Hood

The Semester Starts

First Day of School

Today starts my third week of classes at La Universidad San Francisco de Quito!  After two weeks I finally have a good handle on everything.  Here is a brief overview of my schedule:

Evolution – This class promises to be one of my favorites of the semester.  Nothing like some biology to get me up in the morning!  The teacher, Stella de la Torre, is excellent.  So far, I have really enjoyed it!

Hatha Yoga – This is my first class on Tuesday and Thursday and is a great way to start the day!

Andean History – With this class I’m looking forward to understanding my new home more completely.  There is a lot of reading; hopefully my academic Spanish improves or I am in for a long semester!

Jewelry Making – We are starting from the beginning, forging our silver and mixing it to make a silver-copper alloy, then going on to make our jewelry.  My theme: Michigan!

Language and Literature – This is a class strictly for exchange students.  We will be reading and discussing Hispanic short stories.

Pre-Columbian Art – This is another class I am taking in order to learn more about the rich history of Ecuador.  We are learning about both Andean and Mexican cultures.  Currently we are studying the Olmecs of Mexico.

I’ve stayed in Quito for the past two weeks because I want to have my schedule under control before I go off on any other adventures.   However, I did leave Quito last Sunday to go to Guallyabamba to the family’s new property in the country.  We watered the plants and harvested lemons and avocados before having a very meaty cookout.  It was nice to get out of the city!

This past weekend in Quito I did a lot of walking around and exploring, finding plenty of top-notch bakeries along the way.  On Saturday evening Alyssa and I went to an area called La Ronda (named for the main street, La Ronda), which is known for restaurants with live music, little artesian shops, and delicious street food.  Whitewashed buildings with beautiful iron balconies flank the narrow cobbled streets.  We walked up and down, people watching and going into the shops, where I eventually bought some fun new earrings.  The food was AMAZING!  We tried some of everything: pineapple pizza, chocolate covered strawberries, empanadas de morocho (small and crispy with mazorca grain inside), empanadas de viento (large and bready with cheese inside), and buñuelos (these are kind of like doughnut holes, and are served with honey syrup and a chunk of fresh mozzarella).  The empanadas and buñuelos were fried right there in front of us.  Let me tell you, they were good.  We have decided we will have to go to La Ronda regularly to eat our weekly quotas of grease and deliciousness.

In La Ronda

Unpaved Paradise

Hola Todos!  I spent the last few days of my summer break on a great vacation at Río Muchacho Organic Farm with 10 other girls from the BCA program.  We set off on an overnight bus from Quito to the seaside town of Canoa on Tuesday night.  The curvy mountain roads and loud techno music playing rendered the first three hours rather unpleasant.  However, the music was eventually turned off and the roads mellowed out, so the following five hours were bearable and we arrived in Canoa at 5:55am.  Luckily, we were able to leave our bags in the Río Muchacho office.  I went on a morning run down the beach and then spent the day relaxing.  It was cloudy, but still a lot of fun.  We met two Germans and decided that a Germany v. US soccer game was in order.  Even though the Germans were outnumbered 2-4, they still won (maybe if we had been playing field hockey I would have had a chance…)  So far, I have met people from England, Ireland, Germany, France, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Israel!  It is amazing how many people you meet when you travel.

The beach in Canoa

That afternoon we rode in the back of two pickup trucks to the veritable paradise of the Río Muchacho Organic Farm.  We entered the compound to find lots of tropical trees, rock-lined paths, natural wooden buildings, and lots of hammocks!  It was absolutely wonderful.  It was very relaxing to be out under the stars with the crickets and cicadas and away from the cars and crowds of Quito!  We spent the next three days at Río Muchacho helping with farm work, hiking, making jewelry, learning about the farm’s sustainability mission, and eating delicious food.  Some highlights included making chocolate from cocoa beans, visiting a 130-year-old strangler fig, swimming in a jungle waterfall, and carving myself a cup out of a large mate fruit.   I returned to Quito on the Saturday night bus very dirty, very tired, and very happy.

Very old tree

CHOCOLATE!

Rings from Palma Real seeds

The Río Muchacho farm was founded based on principles of environmental sustainability and awareness.  Quito’s coastal regions were once mostly dense forest, but in the early 1900s much of the land was cultivated to grow shade-grown Arabica coffee.  However, rising popularity of robust coffee from other regions caused the coffee industry to decline, and the cattle grazing industry to increase dramatically.  Unfortunately, this meant major destruction of the native ecosystem via slash and burn land clearing.  Many areas are now suffering a lack of almost any vegetation due to very poor soil; however, at Río Muchacho native forest is flourishing.  Water is collected and filtered from rain or the river.  Most of the food is grown in the garden, which is helped by abundant compost from the pigs, horses, and cuyes kept on the farm.  Humans help with the composting too because all the toilets are dry compost!  There is even a mobile “reforestation” toilet.  All in all, the farm produces less than 2lbs of inorganic waste per week.  

When we arrived at the farm, Dario (the founder) told us, “You can rest easy during your trip here.  While living at Río Muchacho, you don’t need to feel guilty, because you are leaving almost no footprint on the environment.”  I immediately thought, Should I be feeling guilty for how I live when I am not at Río Muchacho?  I think of myself as an environmentally conscious person, but am I really doing all I can to promote sustainability?  My trip to Río Muchacho was full of questions like these.  During our stay we watched three documentaries: “The Power of Community,” “Food Inc,” and “Dirt!”  These are all excellent films and I highly recommend that everyone watch at least one of them!  The take home message from my whole experience is that our society leads an extremely destructive lifestyle.   We are quickly draining the Earth’s oil reserves, inflicting incredible damage on the atmosphere, and changing the climate – with devastating effects.  We continue to wipe out native ecosystems in order to make room for mega-farms to produce our genetically modified food.  In order to exploit Earth’s natural resources we are actively destroying our planet.  What does it matter if one or 100 or 10,000 species are wiped out in the process?  What does it matter if we change the climate forever?  After all, it is “our” planet, isn’t it?  Earth was made for man and man reigns supreme, superior to all other life.  Sure, technically we’re ‘animals’ but we are not the same as all those other wild creatures.  We have the power to manipulate the environment to suit our needs and we have the right to do so at the expense of everything else that lives on our planet!

Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?  This is the message our culture sends, and if you do not actively speak out against it then you are sending the same message.  This is a finite lifestyle.  One day we will wake up and the oil will be gone, our crops will fall to disease (since they’re almost all the same this is not far fetched), the rainforest will be eradicated, the oceans will be polluted, the soil will be barren, and we will be left unable to repair the damage we have inflicted – unless we change how we live.

I recently read Ishmael, by Daniel Quinn.  I definitely recommend reading this!  The book deals with the themes I’ve touched on, such as western culture’s (the “Takers’ ”) destructive norms: 

"And every time the Takers stamp out a leaver culture, a wisdom ultimately tested since the birth of mankind disappears from the word beyond recall, just as every time they stamp out a species of life, a life form ultimately tested since the birth of life disappears from the world beyond recall."

Some food for thought.