My trip to (sorta)America

So dont get your undies in a bunch, I didnt actually go to the States without calling you! Whoever you are, know that you mean so very much to me that I will call you when I am at home (and if I actually mean that, then you probably know when I plan to come home to visit. If you dont, perhaps you are some creepy blogstalker, in which case I do not plan to call you but I thank you for reading my blog!).

Carnival is a holiday that comes before Ash Wednesday. During Carnival, it is acceptable to throw water, ink, fish water, cow poop (not kidding) and mud at strangers, friends and family alike. It is also acceptable to climb up to your balcony or rooftop and drop water balloons (filled with your choice of fillings) on unsuspecting passersby below. Thats basically all I know about Carnival. I asked a bunch of locals what the purpose of it was, and no one could tell me. The president of the Mujeres told me that thats the exact reason why she doesnt like the holiday, because its just an excuse for people to act crazy and rude. I think it is the same thing like Mardi Gras, although I never really understood that one either. But at least showing your boobs so that people give you plastic beads is a little less messy (I mean, physically less messy. Sure would mess with your self respect, but thats just my opinion).

So I decided early on that I was not going to participate in Carnival. I dont like getting water thrown on me, I dont care how hot it is outside. I planned to lock myself in my home with lots of popcorn to eat and books to read. When my friend at the US Consulate's office asked what my plans where I told him that exactly. Nada, no tengo planes. So he asked if I would be willing to house- and dog-sit for him while he went to Quito with his family. My response was something along the lines of, "Um....yes, please!" House-sit for a Consulate officer? You better believe they have hot showers, cable tv (heck, ANY tv is better than my non-tv), and a DVD player. I was so in! I went to the Bahia (the black market) and bought 5 bootleg dvds (for $1 each) just for the occasion!

Friday comes and finally its a sunny day. The sun hid behind rainclouds for basically the entire month of January. No sun and lots of rain is bad for doing laundry. The one time that I did do laundry I did it inside, which got my floor all wet. Also, no sun means that it takes more time for my clothes to dry on the line (when its not raining and I can actually put them on the line), or more than 24 hours to dry inside (cuz its raining, again!). So finally a sunny day, I decided to get home early, eat lunch at home and do some laundry! Man, my Fridays are exciting these days, arent they? As I am eating my hotdogs, my friend from the Consulate's office calls and asks what I am up to, and if I am still willing to housesit? I tried not to scream YES too loudly at that, and told him that I was eating lunch and about to do laundry, since it was sunny and all. His response was, "Well, why dont you save that laundry and bring it to our house? We have a washer and dryer. And be sure to save some room because we [he and his wife] are taking you out to dinner." As my PCV friend later said, "You had me at dryer."

So I packed up all my clothes (literally, almost all the clothes that I own here. I seriously didnt do laundry for a month, my clothes were filthy). Then I looked at the pile and debated on if I should really bring everything. I mean, I dont want them to think that I was just bringing all that shit just because they have a washer and dryer and I was trying to take advantage of them or something. Should I bring the underwear? Do they have a maid? Is she gonna try to wash my dirty underwear? I settled on bringing everything, and hoping that there was no maid. I put the underwear in a different bag, just in case. I really dont like other people washing my panties. I picked out 10 dvds that I wanted to watch (why do I even own 10 dvds when I dont have a tv or a dvd player??). Should I bring a book? Will I really read a book when there is cable tv to be watched? Of course I will! I read quite a bit back in the States, I read A TON here, I am a reading machine. Bring the book....and the dvds. This was basically the most exciting packing experience I have ever had. It rivaled packing to come here to Ecuador...because I knew I was packing for a weekend spent in a world unlike the one I presently know.

I headed over to his house. I get there and hung out with him and his wife and their two ADORABLE kids. And their maid. He and his wife were both in the Peace Corps, but not in the same countries--he was in Africa and she was in Eastern Europe. They now both work at the Consulates office; he interviews for visas and stuff, and she is the (self proclaimed) "social chair." She says she does things like welcome new officers and their families, plan holiday parties, etc. She said that her job is alright, but seeing as she has TWO masters degrees (one in weapons of mass destuction ?!), it gets a little boring for her at times. Understandable.

Their house is huge. Well, my mind is warped. Its huge for Ecuador, for the States its like an upper-middle class home. With a maid. And a nanny. And a pool. And a dog with no fleas. All inside a gated community with electric fences, armed guards and private gardens. Lets just say this is not the Ecuador I have come to know and love. I mean, guards with guns? sure. Guards with guns that are not drinking beer? no. Lots of dogs? sure. Lots of dogs with no fleas? unheard-of.

They take me to dinner at Chili's. Yes, my Peace Corps life takes place in a city that has a Chili's resturant. It was totally weird. I mean, I have been to resturants like that a bunch of times since I got here, and its weird everytime. For one thing there is a staff person who's job it is to greet you at the door. And then someone else seats you at a table. And then they bring you a menu, and you didnt even have to ask for it! And then they bring you FREE chips! And then they smile and say, "Of course we can make that" when you order a kiddie cocktail even though its not on the menu. And then when you order, they actually have all the different kinds of food that everyone at the table ordered. It was as if they put things on the menu with the real intention of making them, and then later serving them to the customers! How wild is that?!?! Just to really go out on a limb, I ordered the tuna. Man, am I a risk taker! What kind of Peace Corps Volunteer who eats tuna from a can at least once a week goes out to eat and orders TUNA?!? This kind, cuz I love me some tuna! And it was Grilled Margarita Tuna, I mean, how could I resist??

By the time we head back to their house its nearly 10pm. I am exahusted. All that fine dining and kiddie cocktailing can really take a lot outta a girl! I have to work in the morning (because only the Mujeres de Lucha plan a medical brigade for Carnival weekend, jeez!), and they are gonna be gone by the time I get back. They leave me some instructions for stuff around their house and for the dog. As they are showing me the laundry room and food pantry (yes, food pantry! With FOOD in it! Lots of food!), it hits me that I have no clean underwear for the morning. Crap. It would be totally akward for me to ask if I can toss a load of laundry in right now....and I might be okay with being dirty, but I do NOT wear dirty underwear. Maybe I should wait until they go to sleep? But no, washing machines make noise, they will hear me. I figure I will just pretend like I am going to sleep, wait for them to go upstairs, and then sneak out to the bathroom and wash a pair in the sink.

So thats just what I do. I clean my panties in the sink with the pump handsoap in the bathroom. Then I realize that the panties are wet now, and I know from experience in my own home that they will not be dry by the AM. Dammnit! Now what? Lucky for me, there is an air conditioner in my room. So I crawl up on the big fluffy mattress and hold the panties in front of the A/C. But I cant stand here all night! Maybe I should hang them from the A/C? Is that a fire hazard? Oh God, if I set a fire in this house because I dried my panties on the A/C, they will never invite me back! I do some wave the panties around a bit, rub it against its self, anything to get them to dry faster. Then I hang them from the desk across from the A/C. I crawl into bed, get under the covers (yes! covers! you can sleep with covers when you have an A/C!) and hope that the panties are dry in the morning.

Wake up the next day, and thank God, they are dry: A/C works wonders. I head to the bathroom for a hot (!) shower. The towels they gave me are white. I shower on a regular basis, but I know that I am dirty, I am terrified of dirtying their towels. The heels on my feet are cracked, inside the cracks is permenatly embedded dirt as a result of wearing sandals in the barrio and living in a country with no standards for exhaust from vehicles. But they were in the Peace Corps, right? They will understand if I dirty the towels, right? So I shower, I go to work, come back, walk the dog, and plop in front of the tv. I then proceed to watch about 10 hours straight of Miami Ink, Made and True Life ("True Life: Im an asshole" it should be called, man the people on that show are ANNOYING!). During commercial breaks and when my mind started to get bored, I walked the dog, made dinner, and gave the dog his dinner and medicine. Then I watched 2 dvds. Then I went to sleep, woke up, took a shower (only because it was hot), got bit by the dog while giving him medicine, and continued my tv marathon. I cursed myself when I finally figured out that the tv guide was translating What Not to Wear as No Te Lo Pongas (or something like that), and wondered how many episodes I had missed out on. I watched Desperate Housewives, and then got pissed that it was the same episode as the last one I saw in the States.

Sometime around 6pm on Sunday, I started to feel guilty. I had yet to crack open my book. I had yet to write in my journal. I had yet to really do much of anything at all. I started to feel like I was back on my purple couch in DePere, on any given weekend of the year. I felt like, man, this is great. This is totally fun. There is tv in English where I get to watch people getting tattoos, breaking up with their boyfriend, fighting with the judge on People's Court, doing all kids of crazy things. I get to eat popcorn with Reeses Pieces in it. I get to drink lots of soda. I ate an ice cream bar, and didnt even have to leave home to do it because the freezer in this house actually works. I had air conditioning (although, I swear it gives me the gripe). It was totally fun, totally indulgent, totally wonderful, and was making me totally sad.

I came here to Ecuador for a lot of different reasons. I was inspired by people who had done things like this before. I was tired of my clients and helping people who didnt want my help. I wanted to learn more Spanish. I missed Guatemala and wanted a repeat performance. I wanted to grow up. A big reason was that I wanted to get the fuck off of my couch, away from my limitless life and see how the "other half" lives. I mean that not in a patronizing kind of way...I mean, I didnt think I would be wearing loin-cloths and eating bugs (I dont know where that "half" lives...). But there is so much life outside the wonderful life that is possible (for those who have the means to get to it) in the States. I am speaking for myself when I say that my life in the States was great. I had all the things that "poor people" here in Ecuador want: a house made of concrete and brick that doesnt flood, a job where I made enough money to spend it on whatever I want, my own car, a gym membership, the ability to eat in just about any resturant I wanted, a Target store around the corner (okay, maybe they dont want that, but if they knew what Target was they would!). But I still wasnt satisfied. I was happy, yes, most of the time. But it still somehow wasnt enough.

As great as my trip to (sorta)America was, I was happy when it was over. It was a wonderful, much needed, and (I like to think) well deserved break. But it was just that, a break. And today when I was on the bus-- leaving the barrio after helping serve lunch and shooting the shit with the Mujeres, worried for my life because the driver wasnt paying attention to the road, heading towards the downtown and excited about the .40 cent empanada that awaited me--I felt so filled with happyness. Happyness with a "y" like in the movie, because it may not be perfect, but its just the way I want it to be.

I wonder what I will feel like when I go back to the States? I think its a problem with myself. Its like when I order a pizza, I feel the need to eat the ENTIRE pizza. When I have cable tv, I feel the need to watch it ALL THE TIME. I have got to find a way to live a life with privileges, yet not indulge myself completly in them. I want to move back to the States when my Peace Corps 2 years is done. I already think about my dream Masters Degree and my subsequent dream job. I have just got to learn to stay happY while I seek that Degree and that job, while living in a house that doesnt flood, has a freezer that works, a fridge with all kinds of food options, hot water and cable tv. My life here is not tough, I 'm not gonna lie. Its not easy either, and thats the damn truth. I like it here...but I still havent learned enough to believe that I will like it back there.

Paz Afuera,
Tere