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.