Cross-Cultural Drama

So its been almost a month since my last post, how bogus is that? I am sorry, not just to you, but to my sanity, which struggles just as much as you do when I don’t blog. So what has been keeping me so busy? Well, my work, in general; that and the fact that I make a daily effort not to go to the office, and thats where the free internet is. Lets see…what have I been up to lately?

There have been a few small, but cumulatively totally major in my book things going on this month, most of them based around my work with the Mujeres de Lucha. I freaking love them, have I mentioned that? In the last post I mentioned that they want me to come and hang out more, so I have been making the effort to do that. The thing is that sometimes it goes really well, and sometimes I feel like, What am I doing here? They are always working, so if I don’t have something in particular to be doing, I feel like I am keeping them from their work if I stay for more than just a minute. And when I have to take two buses to get out there, I am going to stay for more than just a minute, you know. Not trying to waste my 50 cents (well, really a dollar to go there and back, and I can practically eat lunch for a dollar, so that’s a lot of moola). So my solution to that problem is to work with them. Wow, I am a genius, aren’t I?

While in Cuenca for Halloween, my boss called me. I was scared out of my mind, because she knew I was out in Cuenca having a good time and hanging out with friends, so I figured she must be calling with bad news. Its not like they ever call just to talk, and why would she call me about work when she knows that I am not at work? Someone must have died. That was my immediate thought. My heart sank to the floor and my stomach hurt. Why did I let so many weeks go by without talking to my mom and sisters and brother? But no, she was calling about work, its just that it was urgent. As it turned out, the US Deputy Assistant Secretary in the Department of State’s Bureau of Western Hemisphere Affairs, Chris McMullen, was coming to visit. Um, come again? And remind me what that has to do with lil ol me Peace Corps Ecuador volunteer? Well, I was told that he had heard about my organization and wanted to come out and see work that we were doing. Okay, that’s cool. I am perfectly comfortable showing off my organization and the work we do, I am not so comfortable being the focus of the discussion.

Currently the youth program is working on the huge final phase of the HIV/AIDS campaign, and trying to reach the goal of 500 free HIV/AIDS tests in each of the 5 barrios in the next 3 weeks. I figured we could take Señor McMullen out to the barrio to see the tests. I am told to talk to my counterpart and confirm on Monday afternoon. Monday AM I get a call that there will not be enough time to go out to the barrio to see the tests. There will only be an hour, and the barrio where the tests are is WAAAAY south, as far south as you can get in Guayaquil. It would take at least 30 minutes to get out there, so transportation alone would eat up all the time. So I am asked to switch plans to something in the office which is downtown. Not really what I want to do because I think it you want to see work, you should not go to the office, because the real work (in MY opinion) is done in the barrio. But whatever, no one really asked for my opinion, I guess…

So I explain things to my counterpart, explain the original plan, then the change to the office. I ask is she thinks we can do this? Oh, sure, she says. No problem. She has me write up an Oficio (which is an official invitation document) and post it on the bulltain board to invite folks to come. I do that, and I also speak with the Org president and the leader of the Youth program and they say they will be there. Great, this should go just fine, I think in my naïve thoughts. In the next few days, I start communicating directly with the US Consulate Office in Guayaquil to plan and replan for the visit (there is a very nice guy who works there who is in charge of planning the visit). By Thursday, the plan has been changed to go to the barrio again. It turns out that Señor McMullen agrees that real work is seen in the barrio. Still have the problem of time, so I suggest that we go see the Mujeres de Lucha. Like I said, they are always working (they have a community lunch program, community store, community beauty shop, community bakery and are working on a community garden, see my updated site description below for more info) and their barrio is not as far away and would be a heck of a lot faster to get to. So I communicate that with my counterpart, the head of the Youth program, and the prometores from that barrio. Everyone seems to be on board, although I’m not gonna lie, I got the feeling that they weren’t really listening to me. That’s the thing, remember how I said that I am trying to not be in the office? That’s pretty much why. Pretty much I am getting tired of the noise level of people mulling around and (I hate to be rude, because they really do good work when they set their minds to it) not doing a whole lot of anything. Besides that, they don’t seem to pick up on what I am putting down as I kindly remind folks that my name is Theresa, not flaca, chica, gorda, niña, or whatever other adjective they choose for the day. And, generally speaking, I appreciate mutual respect: I listen to you, you listen to me. That’s the kind of environment that I seek out, and its not always the environment in the office. So yeah, this pedestal is high and I am afraid of heights so let me come on back down now.

Anyways, so Señor McMullen wants to go to the barrio. It just so happens that the barrio where I feel most connected, most at home, and most part of the community is out in the barrio with the Mujeres. What’s more, they are doing a crapload of work out there, and somebody oughtta see it and appreciate it, you know? So that’s where I offer to go, on Wednesday, it appears that everyone is on board. I confirm it with the Mujeres, they are all about it. Really, they are all about everything, they are just that kind of group. I figure I should bring it up again at the meeting in the office on Friday, just to be safe. I have my counterpart bring it up at the meeting, because to put is simply, people will listen to her more than they will me. Well, good thing I did. Because suddenly no one is okay with it. Suddenly the Mujeres are not really part of the larger Organization, but a community group that does their own thing with or without the larger group. What the what? Since when? Because since the day I came for my site visit, I was told that the Organization works in several various barrios with the groups of women and youth in those barrios. In fact, I specifically remember being taken to meet the Mujeres on my site visit. And how do you think it became that I am working with them. Its not like I just go wandering around dangerous barrios looking for friendly looking folks. I was brought to them! What the f is going on here? So follow that confusion with an impromptu meeting where basically all the plans I have made with the freaking US Consulate’s Office are smashed and cancelled…the Organization decides that the visit will not happen unless he comes to the office. Well, too bad you don’t just tell the US Deputy Assistant Secretary in the Department of State’s Bureau of Western Hemisphere Affairs what to do, he’s a pretty important guy. Pretty much he makes his own decisions, and pretty much he’s not going to come see the work at all if he has to come to the office. So what now? This is really not the reputation that I am trying to give myself with the Consulate’s office, and besides, I feel like I am making Peace Corps Volunteers look bad, you know?

So I go to the bathroom and cry, and then curse the fact that ONCE AGAIN, there is no freaking toilet paper so I have to wipe my tears on my shirt sleeve, so there goes my guise of privately crying. After I finish crying, I call the Consulate guy back again, he explains that he doesn’t care what my organization has to say. If they don’t consider the Mujeres part of them, then what’s to stop us from going out there? Dude wants to see the barrio, and dude wants to see the work of a Peace Corps Volunteer in an Ecuadorian community: so lets go see it (enter me being not so comfortable, but whatever, lets not make this The Theresa Show). The Mujeres were all pumped about the idea, and surely they still will be. Phew! Okay, lets do this! I privately explain to my counterpart that the visit is going to go through anyways, and would you believe that she said that I still had to talk to the president?? Furthermore, would you believe that he then says to me that I cannot go out there without them because is THEIR barrio. Excuse me? I thought they weren’t part of you. I calmly explain in increasingly broken Spanish (cannot think when I am angry) that I will go out there and I will not mention to the Organization at all, and its not reasonable to say that I cannot do so. RARRRR! In the next few days, I go out and explain everything to the Mujeres who then explain that they would rather have it this way. They, too, think of themselves as their own separate group. In their opinion, the larger Organization has done a whole lot of talking with them with not a whole lot of action (until I came along, but we wont get into that, because I have already put myself on enough pedestals in this post…).

So, to make a long story a little less long, the day finally comes around where Señor McMullen is here. The plane is of course an hour late. So really, there is no time to go out and see the Mujeres because the schedule is super tight and the next meeting is with the mayor (VERY important guy in Ecuador). But, the Vice Consulate says that too much work and effort has gone into this visit to cancel it. We go out to the barrio, we have a totally wonderful welcome from the Mujeres, we take a super quick tour around their various work sites, and the president of the Mujeres explains the totally great work they do. And just like that, it was all over. The drama that had consumed my life for two whole weeks was done in a flash. I felt crappy. I was like, Oh no, the Mujeres are going to be mad because everything started late so we didn’t get to do it the way we had practiced and planned and we didn’t have time to go out to the beauty shop! Oh, but no, of course my worries were unwarranted. They were totally pleased with the visit, totally stoked that these very important American Government men in suits wanted to come out and see what they do everyday. I mentioned again how glad and proud I was with them, and that no promises can be made, but networking is always a good thing to do (hint, hint, larger Organization…).

And guess what? The US Consulate’s Office is now talking with me about planning a Christmas Food Drive for the Mujeres. The Vice Consulate told me that they are pretty much his favorite group of women in Ecuador. Mine, too! The lunch program is majorly stuggling because about 1/3 of the kids dont pay for their lunch each week (despite the fact that its just a $1.50, the cost of ONE lunch at a normal resturant) because their parents dont have the money. And rather than let the kids go hungry, the Mujeres feed them anyways. But that means that they end up short on money to buy the food, so they skimp on the recipies and bring items from their own kitchens when needed. A Food Drive will MAJORLY help them out.

On Monday, I get to tell the Mujeres about the Food Drive (ps, how do you say Food Drive in Spanish???) and I cannot wait to see their smiles. I may not love the US Government, but I gotta say I am pretty damned pleased with (this tiny facet) of it right now. I may have had to totally let the Mujeres down because I told them I would take them to a Community Bank workshop in November, but then I couldn’t because of “budget cuts.” And my Peace Corps boss got fired because of “budget cuts.” And I had to pay ½ of a month’s rent and 1 month security deposit for my new place and probably won’t get reimbursed until January (which equals I am broke as a freaking joke) and will probably be given the almighty “budget cuts” line as a reason for it. Speaking of budget cuts, how’s that War on Terror going, Mr. President? Pfft. But anyhow, THIS part of the US Government is pretty freaking rad in my book. And so are the Mujeres.

And so are YOU!

Besos,
Theresa

Cuerpo de Paseo

Hey kids,
Sorry its been a minute since the last post (I know you all check daily, waiting with baited breath for new blog posts from me for my wildly inspirational insights). I have been doing some travelling (see post below regarding Montañita) and then I was in Cuenca for Halloween: nothing interesting happened there except for Puro (sort of like a moonshine cane alcohol, very strong) induced inebriation, and I dont think you really need to know about all that. My costume was hot though, I will tell you that much. I was a fairy! I made my own wings and wand! Oh so crafty.

Its has not been all fun and games, though: I have started a Shutterfly account! The address is:
www.comoestatheresa.shutterfly.com. At least thats what I think it is...I will fix this post later if thats wrong...

I am slowly (very slowly) uploading my pictures onto there. There are a few albums so far, so check them out. And leave you comments because I love to hear your inspirational insights as well.

Love and miss you all,
Theresa

ps: The Mujeres de Lucha asked me to come by more often and hang out with them. I friggin love my life.

Remeber that One Time we Accidentally Stayed at the Drughouse?

So I decided to take a little viaje this weekend, to the lovely beach (and gringo filled) town of Montañita, Ecaudor. Montañita is famous for its surf-schools and laid-back ways of beachlife. Its lovely there.

My friend and took the bus to Montañita. We werent sure when the bus would leave, the staff at the Oro Verde Hotel (where she frequents for over-priced, but non-NesCafe caffinee fixes and to use the handicapped bathroom because it has airconditioning and plays classical music when you shut the door) told her that we could take the luxary bus line for $10 or so. Mmmm, no so much. We took the standard for $5.50, but had to wait at the station for an hour and a half until the bus left. No big deal, EcuaLife is all about the waiting. We chatted until the bus came and ignored the stares of the kids who grouped near us to watch the gringas speaking in that crazy gringa-speak. The bus ride was about 2 hours or so, and as far as I am concerned, it was luxary. The seat cushions had no rips, it did not smell like urine, and the tv was a flip-down screen. Top of the line, folks. I think they also recently had the microphone system installed, and were abusing that power at any opportunity.

We arrive into Montañita, its COLD! Well, its cold for Ecuador, but its beautiful! Pretty little beach town where you gotta roll up the cuffs to your pants because its muddy in the streets. Gringos in every direction, gotta admit it was a little weird for me...Anyhow, where should we stay? There are hostals everywhere, we go into town and turn away from the noisey "downtown" area and walk to the first hostal. "A ver..." we call out (EcuaSpeak for "Is anyone there to provide service to me?") No one responds. Business opportunity lost for them; we move on to the next hostal. There is a lady standing in the "lobby" area, but she says she doesnt work there. "A ver..." she calls out, and a skater-surfer-boy with a shaved head and tattoos everywhere comes out. "Do you have rooms available?" we ask in Spanish. "Yes," he responds in English. "Do they have private bathrooms?" we ask in Spanish. "Yes," he responds in English, "and a kitchen and hotwater. Come up and see them" he says. We head up the stairs and follow him to the room. Sounds too good to be true...ps, it was.

"This room is available. The beds are clean," he says motioning to the single bed and the set of bunkbeds. He points to the bottom bunk and says, "Except for this one. Its not dirty, but I slept here last night. I did not sleep under the covers, I passed out on top of the covers. So its not dirty if you sleep under the covers"

"Oooookay..." we say. Thats fine, there's two of us and two beds.

He continues, "I was drunk last night, and I didnt want to wake up my roommates, thats why I slept here. But normally I sleep in my room across the hall there. But last night, you know, I was drunk, I was talking to myself, and I didnt want to bother them."

Probably more information than I needed, I think. The room is $5 per person per night. We are sold. He leaves the room and comes back with a lock for us to put on the door, then he says, "Oh crap! My plants! My babies are on the deck here, dont mess with my babies!" he says playfully and goes to the deck. He moves the plants to the hallway area, where the plants still have access to lots of sunlight. He must be an avid gardener, I think, thats cool.

My friend goes to the bathroom. When she's done, I go in. "Umm...is this your underwear in here?" I call out to her. "Nope, that was in there when I went in" she says. When we pass by the hostal owner on our way out to the lunch and tell him there is underwear in the bathroom. "No way..." he says, "Who's are they?" "Well they are not ours," we respond, and tell him not to worry about it and that he can take them out when we get back. When we come back, he greets us warmly, and as we head up the stairs my friend calls out, "Hey! Do you wanna come get your underwear from the bathroom??" "Oh yeah," he says, and grabs a plastic bag so that he doesnt have to touch them with his bare hands.

He procedes to tell us about how our room is pretty much the nicest room in the hostal, I think he was trying to reassure us that we made a good choice in staying there, despite the man-panties in the bathroom. "Nicest room except for this one," he tells us, leading us to the other room. His friend was staying there, he tells us, but he kicked him out the other day. "Why?" we ask. "Well, he was a pig," he says, pointing to the numerous cigarette butts all over the floor and the bed with the sheets ripped off. "And besides," he adds, "he was selling cocaine out of the room. And thats not good, you know." "Yeah," we say, "definately not good. We are gonna go now..."

Montañita is a beautiful little town. We spent the rest of the day and night wandering around the (total of 4) streets in the town, and I tried to hold back how weird and scary and nice it was to see so many gringos in one place and not know all of their names...I also ate something that made my stomach hurt very bad. I wont get into it, lets just say there were lots of trips to the bathroom, followed by me peering intently into the bowl looking for worms as the nurses taught us to do (I am not kidding, they have pictures of people with worms they found in the toilet. If I ever get a worm, you best believe that I will take a picture for you all to see!). So I end up turning it in early for the night, which sucked because we had met some really cool folks and were having a great time chatting with gringos in Spanish, but hey, I always was a party pooper- much pun intended.

I doze in and out of sleep, trying to stay alert so I will hear my friend when she comes back in. Around 3am (I think that was the time, clocks in Ecuadorian Hostals do not exist, and I have stopped wearing a watch, because really? I live in Ecuador, the time doesnt really matter...) I wake up wondering where my friend is. She still hasnt come back yet. I slip on my flip flops, decide a bra isnt really necessary in this little surf town, and head down the stairs to see if anyone has seen her. Its dark, I dont see anyone in the lobby/resturant downstairs. Then this kid comes in the front door. "Hey, are you staying here?" he asks. Is he speaking in English? Am I awake? What time is it...? This kid cannot be more than 14 years old, what is he, the mini-security guard? "Sí" I respond to his question (I´m gonna not translate that for you all, you better know what sí means, come on now). "Ok," he says, followed by: "Hey, do you smoke pot?" What the what?!?! Who the hell is this mini-security guard-slash-drug pusher?? "No," I respond, and continue to head down the stairs because I can see there is a light on in the common bathroom so I figure I can ask that person if they have seen my friend. I peek into the bathroom, the door is open ajar, there is a guy sitting on the floor, I hope hes not sick, for his own sake and because I am not really trying to smell his vomit. "Has my friend come back yet?" I ask him, basically just assuming that he knows who the hell I am talking about. "No," he says, "Shes still out, dont worry, I am sure shes fine." "Ok, thanks" I say as I realize why he is sitting on the floor. He is accompanyed on the floor by a large plastic grocery bag filled with some green stuff. On the top of the closed toilet lid, he is cleaning mass amounts of marijuana. Where the hell are we?? The local drughouse?!?! Oh dear God. Maybe I am dreaming, I am going back to my bed.

My friend comes home eventually. I groggily open the door for her and get back into bed. I tell her about the weird 14 year old and the dude in the bathroom downstairs. "No way!" she says, "You must have been dreaming...."

The next morning we get dressed (not taking a shower, because there is no showerhead...there is just a rod coming out of the wall that a trickle of (not hot) water comes out of. Whatever, welcome to Ecaudor). We go downstairs to check the bathroom to see if there is evidence of whether or not I was having a Malaria Medication Hallucination, and sure enough...little green leafy things all over the bathroom. Good thing we are checking out tonight. We go to lunch, head out to the beach to do some yoga and watch the gringo surf-lessons (I only make fun because it looks way too hard for my big ass to do...) and head back to the hostal. As we make our way up the stairs, we stop to look at the dudes "babies." Yep, you guessed it: pot.

So pretty sure I will go back to Montañita because it is beautiful: there are no city buses there to make so much noise my ears are becoming deafened, and when you get off the main strip, its pretty chill. I found another little hostal down on the beach with hammocks on the deck overlooking the ocean. Pretty sure I will stay there next time, its worth the extra $3. Drugs are against the PC-Ecuador Pillars of Badness Rules, and besides my morals besides. My life here is crazy, I heart Ecuador.

peace,
Theresa