Random Rat Ramblings

I didn’t ever realize that 14 hour bus rides were something you could get used to. But, after a long weekend in the jungle, my 14 hour bus ride really wasn’t too bad. I probably slept 50% of it. The fact that I only slept 1.5 hours the night before definitely helped but, overall, I really have gotten used to these bus rides. I even got excited today when the bus stopped for a little bit and a round of 15 merchants selling everything from mangos to French fries with fried chicken to fake cigarettes that have red sparkle stuff on the end and let out baby powder when you blow into them. I chowed down an ice cream cone that should be called a lamely chocolate flavored ice chunk stale cone and devoured some corn bread with cheese. I even bought 2 of the fake cigarettes for 25 cents for the Ecuadorian teenage girl that was traveling with me.
Whenever I see the lights of Pedernales, the seedy costal town a half hour north of Taubga, I get all tingly inside. In March, 2007 the first time I went to Pedernales I cried afterwards. I couldn’t believe that that shithole was supposed to be the place I was going to go to “get away from everything” for the next two years. Pedernales is dirty, dusty, hot and not very pretty. The Rough Guide to Ecuador book claims it is “unremarkable”. Now, almost two years later, Pedernales is the first sign of home. It’s like going through the Hooksett toll booth on 93N after getting picked up at the airport, you know Concord is just a few hills and curves away. Pedernales is my Ecuadorian version and as soon as I step off the bus into the dusty hot bus terminal that reeks of piss, I feel home. I even played myself a nice reggae version of Country Roads to get me in that “I am almost home mode”.
Getting back to Tabuga is a whole different kind of emotional rush. The rush that says, your bed, your things, your family and your friends are waiting for you. I love that feeling when I open the door, turn the light on and see my America in a Box room. In that moment, the whole world takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh. After 14 hours on a bus it’s surprising that all I want to do is sit down. My colorful blanket on my big comfy bed is so welcoming. I sit, I start to lean back. I pause. Gross. Rat terds on my bed, right near my pillow. I laugh out loud to myself. What else can you do?
As I am contemplating my rat poop spotted bed, the part near the pillow, someone knocks on my door. My godson and his mom are visiting to welcome me home. They are my next door neighbors and watch my every move. They saw the light go on, they came over. I am strategically sitting on the bed to block the rat poop. I am sure they have rats in their house but come on, who wants their neighbors to know that rats shit next to your pillows?
I am telling stories about my weekend and they are laughing. Being in Ecuador has really upped my confidence in story telling abilities because people think I am the funniest most outrageous person they have ever meant. In the middle of a knee slapper my conmadre jumps out of her chair. A rat is scurrying across thee door frame, across the wall beam and disappears. I stand up and I grab my broom and start poking behind my bookshelf and under my bed. My god son points out the rat feces on my bed, now freely exposed. We sit back down and finish the conversation. We say sweet dreams and see you tomorrrow.
So, I really wanted to title this blog “Crotchless Panties” but I know what people would think. Get your heads out of the gutter; they are not the kind you are thinking about. Lately, the rats in my house have morphed into bigger versions of themselves. I think it has to do with the rat poison that we have been putting in around the house. The rats have been eating it without dying. Maybe it’s having reverse effects? Anyway, when I first got to Tabuga I was grossed out and annoyed by rats eating my soap in the shower. Well, this past week I threw out 4 pairs of crotchless panties, all of which were used on long 5-7 hour hikes and days working outside with a machete and hoe. Apparently rats dig the salty sweatiness of work panties. Here is a picture to prove it. I know, gross. Crotchless panties make rat poop near your pillow seem like a housefly… annoying but harmless. I am now accepting underwear donations.

Tabuga - Best Dressed Kids on the Coast

WOW!

I am forever thankful and impressed by the community service project that the third graders at Beaver Meadow School did. In just a few days the kids collected a bunch of clothes for me to bring down to Tabuga. Not to mention the Erf family, they donated some really cool stuff and others who dropped stuff by Wood Ave.

It was a hassle getting the clothes to Tabuga and a lot of people helped out. It started with Toni´s organizing, Don´s contribution, AJ´s packing and transportation skills, Peace Corps muscles, friendly taxi drivers, a nice bus driver who didn`t charge me for an absurd amount of baggage and my friend Jason. Jason is the new director at the Lalo Loor Reserve where I work and was coming by Tabuga to hang out, little did he know what he was getting himself into, bagman. From NH, to NYC, to Bogota, to Quito, to Ryan´s, to the bus terminal, to another bus terminal to Tabuga. The clothes made it, and oh man, it was worth it!

On Monday I went to my friend Geomaira’s house to organize the clothes. We separated them by gender and age range. The mix of clothes was perfect for all the little boys and girls that run around Tabuga. We put the clothes in boxes and marked them $1 for baby clothes and $2 for kid and adult clothes.

Tuesday I explained to everyone at a community meeting the history of the clothes and with the Queen of Tabuga, Fabiola, announced that we’d be selling the clothes Wednesday morning. We explained that with the money from the sales we were working with the school to have a Christmas Party and give a gift to every kid in Tabuga. Applauses filled the concrete slab where we play soccer, have parties, have meetings and do just about everything.

Wednesday at 9am I arrived at Geomaira’s house, at about 9:01am the living room was already full of Tabugan mom’s going through the clothes. It was a madhouse but a happy madhouse and we raised almost $400! Granted, not everyone has paid yet but that’s how things work around here. It’s a normal thing in this culture to have promotions and people randomly selling stuff. In fact, I just bought some exfoliating face wash not minutes ago from the mother of my god son, it smells nice and has exfoliating beads in it and she’s my friend, how could I say no. Normally they are scheming things like the used car salesman stereotype; this project on the other hand is purely from the heart. The hearts of everyone who donated clothes, from Fabiola and Geomaira with whom I am working.

Geomaira and Fabiola already headed to Portoviejo, the provincial capital to buy gifts.
More on this to come post Navidad!

El Chaco – Possibly the best place on Earth

Coming back to Ecuador after my second trip home was really difficult. For the first time in over a year and a half I wanted to stay home. I felt intrigued by the numerous possibilities the US has to offer in terms of relationships, friendships and my professional future. A four hour layover in Bogota left me with lots of time to contemplate these possibilities and left me hesitant to take the plane to Quito. Thank goodness for my new iPod that my mom gave me as an early birthday present, amazing!

I got to Quito with my four fifty pound bags and had to sweet talk the guy to let me pass through customs because there are new laws that require special paperwork for donations, oops. Again, for the billionth time in two years, I was shocked and impressed with my smooth Spanish talking skills. I called Ryan from the cab and arrived at his new Quito pad. I was greeted by Ryan, Akul, Elliot and Jason. This overwhelmingly good welcoming was just what I needed to feel back at home in Ecuador.

After a great night with the boys, a day in Quito and a night alone at Ryan’s with the Big Lebowski my sad to leave home mood was out the window and I was ready for some rafting adventures. The next afternoon Jason, Ryan and I headed out to el Chaco. John, Dave and Akul were supposed to be with us, we had bought our tickets early but their taxi got pulled over on the way to the terminal. I was freaking out they weren’t going to make it and trying my best to pull my sweet gringa Spanish on the bus driver to convince him to pick them up. He said he only could if they went to the circle called the trebol. I relayed the message to Jason, Jason made the call, they were going to make it - we were calm. Then, upon leaving the terminal, the three boys were there bags ready, smiling faces happy to have made it in time, eager to get on the bus. They were at the wrong circle, I ran up front, I told the bus driver to pick them up, he said he couldn’t, the police didn’t allow it in that spot. He told me to tell them to take a taxi to the trebol, Jason relayed the message, the boys started to run. They ran and they ran through the oxygen-less polluted Quito air, twice they were touching the door of the bus, begging to be let on but the bus driver kept pointing further ahead. Finally, after a good 15 minute jog the boys got on the bus, the whole bus applauded and we were on our way to el Chaco. El Chaco is the entrance to the Amazon rainforest. I was there in September with Carmen, my friend Jeff is a volunteer out that way. Being a good friend of Jeff’s I got to stay in his cabin with some other people from our group, I love his cabin.

I wrapped a stolen from the hostel where the rest of the volunteers were staying white sheet around me into a dress, taped a bunch of condoms to a headband, painted my eyes dark and headed to the 2008 El Chaco Halloween Gringo Fest. Upon arrival I found myself socially awkward when I was expected to mingle with the other groups of volunteers. For whatever reason these groups are called Omnibuses, I am from Omnibus 97. We are now the seniors of Peace Corps Ecuador, suffering from mixed emotions of love for the past, fear of the future and senioritis. Luckily, our Omnibus has really stuck together and I easily found my niche in with my best buds. The gringo fest included Beirut, flip cup, 80s music, a bonfire and even gringo candy! The night was a blast and the pictures are too good. I was Mary Magdalene and sported a nice condom crown, to express her sexual freedom but promote responsibility; my supposed whorish-ness was emphasized by the presence of two Jesus’… why would Mary M only have one? Susan and Jeremy both rocked amazing costumes and are the winners in my book. Susan’s for artistic ability in the construction of an enlarged box of Clos wine, a favorite amongst PC volunteers for its cheap goodness. Jeremy’s was not only creative but political and well done. Go them!

The real adventures began the next heavy eyed, too much beer, where did I even get that tequila, morning. Alone, I went to eat breakfast because there is a nice Manabi (my providence) restaurant in el Chaco – I ate encebollado, a fish soup from the coast that is famous for its amazing ability to cure hangovers. Then I met the other volunteers and we headed to the river. I don’t think any of us knew what we were getting ourselves into.

The weather was spectacular and the atmosphere incredible. The scene was like a weekend music festival but seriously missing the good music. The 14 year olds in the Ecua-music cover band almost succeeded in ruining the amazing mood set by the gorgeous surroundings, the good people, the abundance of beer and the friendly competition. The rafting competition involved 18 teams. The first day each team got two chances to qualify for the second day by doing time trials. My team, Balls Deep, formed by Akul, John, Dave, Jason, Mary and I really dominated our first trial run. Balls Deep turned out to be the best name choice of the competition because of the hilarious way it sounds when an Ecuadorian tries to say it. Unfortunately our second run turned out to be rib breaking and shin bruising when we hit a rock and both John and Mary went flying from the boat. We finished with Mary in the boat without a paddle, huddled in the rear and John nowhere to be seen. We later found John in the ambulance but the rib was just bruised, thank goodness.

15 of the teams qualified for Sunday, round 2. We were team 15. The tournament was divided into 3 heats of 5 boats each. Time was the ultimate deciding factor but the presence of other boats presented a new challenge and a clearer sense of competition. The el Chaco dump truck loaded all of the participants in the third heat to the starting point up river, during this smelly bumpy trip it started to rain. After waiting in a torrential Amazon down pour under a banana tree huddled together for the boats to arrive, Balls Deep gathered together. With goose bumps and blue lips we got refocused and entered the river which had increased in velocity due to heavy rains. Being serious competitors we considered this positive, high waters giving us a clear advantage. With Ryan as Johns’ replacement, Balls Deep entered the river. Dave’s D1 cheering and our Balls Deep smooth rhythm pulled us in front of the pack. Seriously, this part of the race felt so incredibly good, we were so positive so strong, so smooth. Another boat pulled next to us but their rhythm was off, as we started to gain on them again we were confident we were going to win the heat. The guide was cheering, I was ecstatic, Dave continued his coach-like encouragements: push it Ryan, yeah, you got it Jason, Dig Akul, keep it up Mo, etc.
Then disaster struck, or rather when trying to avoid hitting the other boat we struck a rock. Upon impact our guide, Jason and Akul all flew out. Our boat started to wrap round the rock and fill with water, the side of the boat upstream quickly disappeared and the water rose to my chest. I clenched with my legs and looked up to see the next boat coming straight at me and fear rose as the boat covered me. I thought I was going to suffocate, I pushed with all my might, the boat disappeared, flipped and with it 6 other volunteers were in the water, paddles everywhere. I took my paddle and paddled backwards, Dave and Ryan paddled forward, adrenaline kicked in. We were suddenly free from the rock, the boat spun out and we were heading down river, no guide, missing three people. Since this event I have seriously considered becoming an emergency room doctor. I saw our guide in the water, I grabbed the bag of save people rope and looked to Akul, I yelled to him, but he never turned around, I turned to Lindsay, she was flying down the river, a pale white look of fear on her face, I was standing with my knees balanced on the side of the raft, I wanted to save her. I saw her as her back hit a rock and she flew like a rag doll down a two foot drop. I called to her, she was going head first down the rapids, she wouldn’t turn around. I turned to the guide; he was swimming toward the boat. He told me to get out of the way, he reached the boat. In one huge burst of strength I ripped the guide into the boat, he looked at me surprised and grabbed a paddle. Then I saw another volunteer Jon, I reached down and pulled him into the boat.

We paddled strong to the shore. We were minus two rafters on our team and plus one from another team. Needless to say we were disqualified. But, we were alive and Akul even found his shoe while he was floating down river. I was shaking as I walked toward our little tent, my adrenaline rush leaving me feeling week. Clay came over to me with an intense look of concern and muttered “Andrea, I really thought we were going to kill you”. Minutes later, Wilson, the guide from Clay’s boat that had crashed into me, came over and apologized “I am so sorry, I thought we were really going to kill you”, but in Spanish. All in all, the competition was really a blast but I think the rock won, turns out it was the same rock that had put John in an ace wrap the day before. An Ecuadorian team won the competition and Peace Corps teams came in 2nd and 3rd. The 2nd place team actual didn’t deserve the win but the guide had mixed up and noted someone else’s time as theirs. The volunteers tried to give back the money… hilarious.

Even though I apparently almost died, the weekend in El Chaco goes down as one of the best during my time in Ecuador. I was surrounded by good friends, I got to dress up, dance, be competitive and be in one of the most beautiful places around. The people of el Chaco are really incredible, the scenery breathtaking and the times good. It really might be the best place on earth.

Dream Trip to America

The Peace Corps gives volunteers two vacation days per month. The best thing about these days is that they accumulate if you don’t use them. Also, one does not need to use official vacation days to visit other volunteers. So after 1.5 years of service and no official vacation days used I had a lot to spare. The first time I used my vacation days was in June for my first trip home. Then, I used 6 more for my spectacular vacation in the Galapagos with AJ. Turns out, I still had 14 days of vacation unused. I have recently been awarded the position of Co-trainer for the new group of trainees that arrive in February and I am planning on extending 4 months afterwards in Tabuga. I couldn’t see myself using vacation during the extension and didn’t want to waste such preciously earned days off. So, when the opportunity arose last month to head to the northern hemisphere, I didn’t hesitate.

Even though flight prices around the world are sky high, flights to NYC via Latin American airlines are still reasonable. So, my trip landed me in the capital of the developed world. I am assuming that all 400 people in Tabuga couldn’t fill up one apartment building there. The change from Tabuga to NYC is more than just drastic, it’s magical, frightening even. My first night in the JFK airport is telling of my inability to function in such a high speed developed world.

My good friend Becca had arranged for a Super Shuttle to drive me from the JFK airport across NYC to her apartment near Columbia University. My instructions were to go to the Super Shuttle desk, state my name, get in van, pay the driver and arrive at Becca’s NYC pad. As people rushed by me in a New York hurray I admired the advertisements, paying close attention at my snail pace to the signs pointing me through customs and then baggage claim. I successfully followed signs to ground transportation to find that there is no Super Shuttle desk. Apparently, ground transportation has ‘gone modern’, meaning that there is no need for a local friendly smiling receptionist. A kind lady at the general information desk told me to go to the green phones and press 21. Cheery music played as I waited for the next available teller. Candy told me that I needed my confirmation number in order to find my driver. Easy enough, I thought to myself, I’ll call Becca. Unfortunately, credit card pay phones and credit card internet don’t really exist in Ecuador and upon facing them, I lost. Contacting Becca proved to be a failure. Candy must be able to help. Green phone, 21, elevator music, Candy’s voice. Annoyed, Candy said that my driver was looking for me, he has the information, Candy assured me, find him. Luckily, the Super Shuttle guy was yelling out ‘Super Shuttle’ and in a breath of reassurance that I would finally leave JFK, I ran to the man with the cool accent. Apparently he didn’t think my accent was very cool, with an angry look of frustration the cool accent said to me ‘You are speaking Spanish’. Opps, that’s why he couldn’t understand me, I smoothly transitioned to English, mine proving to be better than his, and was turned down. Neither my name, nor Beccas was in his handy dandy modern walkie talkie gadget thing. He waved me toward the green phones and in my head I thought it at the same time as he said it, Press 21.
Candy almost seemed like she was expecting me. I copied the confirmation number and Beccas address quickly and feeling triumphant, turned toward Mr. Cool Accent. He was gone, he had deserted me. I searched on the other side of the green phones, I asked the general information lady. I returned, I pressed 21, Candy was not impressed. She told me to sit on my bag, told me not to move and told me a new driver would be there to get me soon. In about 15 minutes a bilingual (Spanish/English) guy saved me and 1.5 hours after my bag had been claimed I finally left JFK airport. I arrived at Becca’s two hours after my original ETA. The driver asks for $21, the haunting number of the evening. Becca’s security front desk guy had to hold the phone away from his ear as I heard her shrieks ring through the phone. I got in the elevator. So many mirrors, so many buttons... you won’t believe what floor Becca lives on... Press 21.

I hadn’t seen Becca or Christine for almost two years. After girly shrieks and hugs, I took a step back and we all realized we are all the same. It was so incredibly good to see them, my heart felt full of love for these two incredible friends that were waiting up for me. Christine had bussed it from DC to be with me and my appreciation for their friendship is immeasurable. We stayed up until 6 am talking. The next day we even met up with Dan for some delicious beers along the river in NYC then the rest of the day I played tourist and that night we hit the town. The Indian food on Curry Hill was to die for and left me full bellied to enter my first developed world social scene. I didn’t make it passed the little kitchen entrance way until about 30 minutes and one strong drink in. My first conversation with a young businessman type ended poorly, he claimed I made him really jealous, he hates his job and wished he could do something like what I do. I pointed out that at least he made money. He didn’t seem to agree, asked for my blog and that was the end of that. By the end of the night though, I was socializing, dancing with Becca and one of my new favorite people Matt. Only one embarrassing thing happened when I exclaimed ‘Wow, that guy is wicked tall’ and he turned to me and stated ‘That’s because of genetics honey’. I was very apologetic, explaining that I live in Ecuador and always say things out loud in English and no one understands. Awkward, I called myself out for talking to myself. I think that’s when I got another tequila shot... delicious.
Sunday morning, Christine, Becca and I did the breast cancer walk in Central Park. It was incredible and I totally recommend it as a tourist attraction. You get to do something good, see the diversity of NYC peeps, exercise, and see central park and the surrounding area. It was a gorgeous day and I often had to explain to people that I was a tourist because my camera was out every second, I ran into others and would just stop dead in my tracks at the site of a red and orange tree. Being from NH, I grew up with fall foliage but hadn’t seen fall since 2001, my senior year of high school. After delicious cupcakes and window shopping (prices are scary!) we headed back to Becca’s to await AJ and nap. My nap was just me trying to call down which required me to relax on the hammock I had strung up on Becca’s 21st floor balcony overlooking NYC. Hammocks are quintessential to Tabuga and although the scenery was incredibly different, the calming affect was the same.

Once AJ was in NY, I felt way more comfortable, less out of place and Monday morning we started our slow journey northward. This took us through Woodstock, NY, a hike overlooking the Hudson River Valley, winding back roads, small fresh produce markets, North Hampton, Mass, Amherst College and into beautiful NH to my sister’s apartment. Garmin, nicknamed Carmen, AJ’s GPS was an awesome road companion allowing us to get lost, make wrong turns, follow pretty scenery and somehow, end up back on track. Thanks Carmen!

Home was amazing. I got to see so many people who I love and miss dearly. Not to mention I got to see the king of them all Deegan! He´s such an incredible boy and as always it was awesome to see the Arnolds. They really are my other family.

I also got to relive some nice childhood moments like take a hike (or walk) up Mt. Kearsage and visit the Maine coastline and some of my Dad`s childhood spots. I had the chance to visit my extended family in Maine and see some of my cousin´s kids. I also got to hung out with Trinity, a friend from NH who I met in Ecuador and see Lizzy B who flew up from Kentucky to NH to spend the weekend... unbelievable goodness. NH is so beautiful this time of year and being home is so wonderful because it shows me that I do want to be back in the states someday.

AJ, Ang, my mom’s boss and I planned an awesome surprise at Beaver Meadow. My mom knew I was coming home thanks to three different people who spilled the beans but didn’t know when I was to arrive. I sat amongst the third graders in my mom’s library and it took all my might not to yell out at her as she walked in the room. Toni first saw Ang, then AJ and then started searching for me. Apparently, I look a lot like a third grader because I had to jump out at her. It was such an awesome embrace. I love my mommy.

I did presentations for the third and fourth graders about Tabuga and the third graders did a collection of clothes for Tabuga and it was almost too successful. I ended up packing 4 fifty pound bags of donated clothes. This worked out well for me because it required AJ to drive me to NYC to take off. This gave us another night together that we spent in Brooklyn with Elle, Casey, Elle’s beau Luke and a friend Lauren. We had a perfect delicious last super at Elle’s apartment and then I took off for Ecuador with 4 huge bags, great memories and love in my heart for everyone at home.

I am working with the President of the PTA equivalent here to sell the clothes for really cheap ($2 each) and with the money we are going to throw a Christmas Party and all of the kids are going to receive gifts for the holiday. Thank you sooooo much Beaver Meadow Third Graders. It really is a selfless thing they did and an awesome international community service project.