Come Walk With Me

As so much of the culture and beauty here in Quito can only be realized through the seeing eyes, I thought I would take you on a walk - my walk to and from the orphanage everyday. Over the last couple of days, I have snapped some of my favorite visuals that surround me on my 20 minutue journey.

I wake up every morning around 6:45, which gives me plenty of time to get ready, make my breakfast of granola and Guanábana yogurt. I've switched it up a little from the sweet bread. I was hungry an hour later and this guanabana fruit, or at least the yogurt, is simply amazing! All the fruit here is incredibly exotic, a little strange, but worth experimenting. Before I leave the house, I always make my bed. Thought you would be proud, Mom and Dad.



Finally, a picutre of my wonderful host family. I wasn't sure if they were up for pictures, but they took this photo opp very seriously. Mercedes went and put on her sweater, Eduarda was placed on a prop, her bike, and apparently even saying "queso" isn't going to get them to smile. Usually Julio is always wearing a cute little Mr. Rogers sweater, so I was bummed when this wasn't documented. I never leave the house without kisses on the cheek from both Mercedes and Julio and I receive them again when I return. They are fantastic. Mercedes always follows me out of the house at night and watches me get into a taxi.

Josue was sick the day the picture was taken. He stayed in bed, but let me take a quick photo. Everyday, Josue says "hello" to me in English. I say "how are you" and he always responds with "I'm fine, thank you". We´ve got that routine down, so yesterday, Josue climbs on my bed and we start pointing at things in the room and drawing pictures. First, I would say the object in English and then Josue would respond with the Spanish translation. He is quite the teacher and kindly pointed out I need to practice rolling my R's.

On my trek to the orphanage, for the first 5 minutes, I climb up the hill which is Mariana Jesus street. I come across this painting, or some may call it graffiti, but I think it is too beautiful to be termed grafitti, everday and it always catches my attention. This style of artwork is called Guayasamin and it is everywhere in Quito. I am told it represents the oppression felt by Latin Americans, but their hope for a better world. Every piece is equally as strong and passionate.


The streets are lined with the native Ecuadorians perfecting and selling their craft. The man in the picture below is blind and I have seem him and his wife throughout the city. He plays the violin beautifully and in front lies a basket, hoping for change from passers-by.


I love this picture because it holds true for so many of the other vendors that line the streets - the children sit and watch mom or dad as they shine shoes, sell candy, nuts or fruit.


The native women wear beautifully colored shawls, made of an almost velvet material, and they are never without their accompanying wool hat in a shade of green, black, or blue. I´ve noticed Ecuadorians seem to shy away from the camera, but this woman, selling strawberries and mangos, kindly allowed me to take her picture after first blushing and tipping her hat in front of her face.

Ah, the fruit! I have never seen so many new kinds of fruit in all my life. As part of our daily Spanish lesson, we took a trip to the grocery store and learned the Spanish translation for all the different fruits and meats. The word for ¨cow tongue¨ has already slipped my mind. I don´t think I will be ordering that anytime soon. I came home with a plethora of new fruits to try. Several of the fruits below contain the most odd center. The easiest way for me to describe it is they look like the tadpole eggs you used to hunt as a kid before they hatched and became tadpoles and then frogs. The slimy part is the fruit/nutrition and inside is a dark, but edible, seed. I probably won´t be going back for seconds, but glad I tried them.


More fruit! It isn´t long before you pass by a little store front selling Jugo, or freshly squeezed juice, of your choice. Everything from pineapple, orange, strawberry, papaya, etc. I believe I am drinking watermelon below. I often find myself overwhelmed with the choices at restaurants and little food stands, so I have learned the phrase ¨what is your favorite¨ in Spanish and usually go with their local tastebuds. I have yet to be disappointed.




This is Av. America, the busy and long street I take a left on (from Mariana Jesus) and walk another 15 minutes to the orphange. I see new things everyday, all warranting a photo. Here are some of my favorites.


Empinadas, Empinadas, Empinadas! Roger, you were right, they are fantastic - my own little Ecuadorian pizza pocket. Inside, you can find chicken, beef or cheese. I have had, and LOVE, them all! Above the empinadas are another little treasure I have discovered - Pan de Yuca, or Yuca bread. They heat them up for me before taking them, at least 3 at a time, on the road.



Here is an example of the ¨street food¨ I mentioned in an earlier post. Corn is on the right and meat and potatoes on the left. This is a pretty typical fare, lots of starches here in Ecuador.

Meet the Bus Master. Every bus has one. He, or occassionally she, never leaves his post on the front steps of the bus. His fingers are laced with dollar bills and he always seems to be hanging out, yelling stuff to the people on the street. Makes me nervous just thinking of a bus getting into an accident. As we saw with my dear friend Paovlo, the people in Quito are crazy drivers. Pedestrians are second to the cars. There is no such thing as a right-away and you better look twice, maybe three times, before crossing. Rarely will you see a crosswalk light and if you do, it only means there is a less likely chance you will get hit, but no guarantees. Take it with a grain of salt. They take honking to a whole new level. You honk if you are impatient, you honk if you want to let someone know ¨hey watch out, but I´m coming¨, taxis honk at you on the street to see if you want a ride (the Taxi light is always on, so you never know which ones are occupied. I just wait for the honk or wave at them all), it is out of control and will think twice before honking when I return to the States.


Another scary thought if an accident were to occur, but a common occurrence here in Quito and apparently very legal.


Dogs are everywhere. I stay away from the ones that look a little starved, don´t want them thinking I am their next meal, but this guy is harmless, a little smelly, but harmless. He guards the orphanage, along with a couple others.


If it´s not a bakery of sorts, every other store is a Cabina, some with internet, some without. A Cabina is a place to make international and local phone calls. Inside are little phonebooths and computer stalls to check email.


It is no secret I am directionally challenged. For the first few days, I had two points of reference to get me home from the orphanage - the main street I would need to take a right on had Jesus in its name and just a block from my house is this wonderful restaurant/market. Yes, that is a pig lying in a pan on the counter (for the entire day might I add), its mouth stuffed with an apple and its back pulled up so the man can carve pieces of meat for each customer. It is a mystery to me why people weren´t lined up around the corner.


Grecia - my street.


Finally, I am home, usually around 6:30, every night for dinner. I often spend the late afternoon exploring and eating my way through the city. I enter through the green door and my house is the upper floor of the unit shown below.



In addition to the orphange, I have had a lot of fun seeing Quito with the other volunteers. I already introduced you to Tom, but here are my other friends I have met over the past couple weeks. All are so different, but here for a similar reason.

Nicole is on the left and Bre on the right. Nicole is from Toronto, just graduated from college and is looking to get her Masters in teaching next year. She arrived a couple weeks before me and has been my saving grace, giving me the ins and outs of Quito, always showing me where to go. Bre, unfortunately, just left to travel in Peru. Bre just graduated from UCSD, a California native. She is a riot and is the kind of person you feel like you have known all your life, even though you just met her. It wasn´t until she referred to her ¨little sis¨ in her sorority that I began to feel old.

Meet Raphi, short for Raphael. Raphi is from Switzerland and spends his summers working on cable cars at various ski resorts in Western Europe to enable him to play by Winter. He travels all over to snowboard and has even been to Snoqualmie Pass. I couldn´t believe it made the map, until he told me he came for a girl and then it all made sense.

Adrian is from London and is only 18 years of age! So brave in my eyes. He is born to French parents, speaking French, English, Spanish, and a little Italian. Amazing. He is headed to Milan, Italy after Quito to study Italian.

Ah, Zoe. Where do I even begin? She is so many things wrapped into one. Also 18 and taking a year off to travel and volunteer, Zoe is a California hippie from San Francisco. Well, a hippie who wears Armani. Heart of gold, but so chill that you wonder how one stays so relaxed. Her bag was stolen on day one, so the poor girl is waiting for another box of clothes to be shipped here. For the last three weeks, Zoe has rocked the same outfit, occasionally borrowing someone´s shirt or sweater. Never complaining, she, instead, heads straight to a tattoo place to get a pair of angel wings tatted onto her shoulders. We don´t have a lot in common, but she loves you anyway.

The other night, we all went to watch an Ecuadorian soccer game. I stood by Tom so he could translate all of the horribly offensive slang flying out of the crowd´s mouths. We all bought hometown jerserys to show our support. They were $4.

There is an outdoor market in Quito, selling all the local crafts - jewelry, panchos, art, and more. Everything in Quito is fairly cheap. It costs me about a dollar, maybe two, to cab anywhere, you can get a lunch at most places for $1.50, a bottled water costs $0.30, and my entire bag´s worth of clothes were cleaned, pressed and folded for $3.85. Ecuador uses the US dollar and breaking at $20 bill is tough.

Veronica, our Spanish teacher, took us to the Panecillo one day, instead of having class. Fine by me, as the other students are miles ahead of me and I spend most of the hour and a half looking up vocab words and trying to catch-on here and there.

The Panecillo is a religous monument of an angel way on top of a large hill in Quito. It can be seen from almost anywhere in the city. To get there - start hiking!

A little woman, living along the staircase up to the Panecillo. So darling, I had to stop and take a picture as she hung outside her window to watch us pass.

Finally at the top, the view over the city is unbelievable.

These are just a few of the many wonders I have witnessed here in Quito. I am loving my time here and can´t wait to show you pictures of the nearby towns I am able to visit. I am currently in Otavalo for the weekend and have enjoyed the small size of this city and the enormous Saturday crafts market it is famous for. I even bought a Panama hat, which, if I understood him correctly, the boy told me I needed one that was ¨grande¨ due to the size of my hair. Some things are never lost in translation. It was $10 and I hope it makes it home for the summer time.

Chao for now,

Alison

Sidewalk Chalk and Hospitals

Due to the Holiday, Carnival, school and many of the shops in Quito were closed both Monday and today, Tuesday. Tom, Nicole and I decided to head up to the school and orphanage to play with the kids and help where needed. In the morning, the weather couldn´t have been better. The sun was shining and was definitely hitting the Quito high of 65 degrees if not more. I have learned to wear sunscreen every day and every where as the sun is incredibly intense being so close to the equator! I have also been told Ecuador rests underneath one of the thinnest parts of the ozone layer. The thick black smoke each bus emits, most certainly, is not helping this matter.

There were so many new faces due to the school next to the orphange being closed. It was great - time to bring out some of the bigger kid toys! We started with the sidewalk chalk. The kids were so confused at first. They couldn´t quite grasp that it was ok to write all over the ground and cement walls. We showed them, with a bucket of water, the chalk would wash off. After that, it was on! They went crazy and tore through over half the bucket of chalk.


Carmen was more interested in drawing inside the box than on the cement. Not quite sure who gave her the warrior paint on her cheeks, but I thought it was a good call. This little one knows exactly what´s going on and is too smart for her own good.


We also had a lot of fun with the double dutch jump ropes. The hardest part was trying to find two people who could turn the ropes without chopping your head and/or ankles off. Case and point, the little girl turning the rope in the picture of me below would wait until I was just inside and then would would start whipping the jump rope as fast as she could. Remind me to give her extra candy next time to butter her up.

Meet Tom, another volunteer from Mount Vernon, WA of all places. Small world!

I call him the Candy Man because you will most often see him digging in his back pack for tootsie rolls and jolly ranchers, a beehive of little kids swarming around him. They love him! Tom is traveling indefinitely and is even thinking of buying some property in SA, opening a bar or restaurant and making a life down here.

Carnival in SA permits people to throw water balloons, spray you with hoses and foam stuff (which is similar to silly string) if you enter the street on any one of the days between Friday and Tuesday. After a water fight broke out around the school yard, Nicole, Tom and I asked if we could take a small group of the older kids to a park nearby. After a count-off, we had 15 kids in total, all were at least 10 years old, which made things easier. We never made it to the park, they were much more interested in splashing around in a water fountain/pond. Sanitary? I believe it to be anything but! Regardless, they had a blast, trying to get each of the Tias and Tios into the water.


We made it about 30 minutes before the accident. Daniella, a young girl at the orphange, sat for about 3 minutes just holding her knee on the ledge. We couldn´t quite figure out what was wrong. She didnt cry or say anything. We got her to release her hand and oh boy, I have never seen a cut this deep before in my life. Tom scooped her up and he and Nicole went to the Hospital. I yelled Vamos (let´s go) at various octave levels trying to signal I meant business. I counted 18 kids. Wait, didn´t we only have 15? Ah, who cares, we were all going back.

When Tom, Nicole and Daniella arrived a couple hours later. The hospital, which Tom described as ¨absolutely horrible¨, stitched Daniella up, but would not provide any of the medication or administer the tetanus shot she needed to prevent infection. We talked to a woman at the orphanage who, more or less, said that unless we wanted to take her and pay for it, they would not be getting the medicine for the little girl. Horrified at the thought, we all jumped into a cab to another clinic.

Daniella did not say one word. She didn´t cry or complain at all. Even at the age of 29, I wouldn´t have been as good of a sport as Daniella. I couldn´t help but think it was because these kids probably aren´t used to anyone taking care of them. They are, most likely, left to fend for themselves. I reached into my bag and pulled out some trail mix. She must have been starving. Three stops later, we walked into another hospital of sorts. She was given a tetanus shot and drugs to prevent infection and for the pain.

One ice cream bar and 2 hours later, we were back at the orphanage. In total, between the taxis, tetanus shot and perscriptions, it cost us $20. That is nothing to us back at home, but here in Ecuador and especially to the people at the orphanage, that is a lot of money. Again, experiences like these make me so thankful for what I have - not only the financial stability but also the care of my family and friends.


Not the best looking stitches in the world, but we checked them again today and she seems to be doing ok.

I had a great time with Nicole, Tom and the kids over past two days. Here are a couple more of my favorite pictures. These kids provide so much material for photo opportunities.

Playing in the kiddie pool, freezing, the boys stand for a photo.

How do I even comment on this picture? Crocks on the wrong feet, a onsie with the feet cut off of the bottom, chalk all over his face. Priceless.

This contraption spins round and round while the kids hang on for dear life. The dog is pulling the kids in this picture!

If there was ever a chance I may come home with one of these cuties, it would be this one. Meet Rosita. She spends most of her day wanting to be picked up, her hands never without a fist full of bread.

Leaving Everett in America

Those who know me best (or maybe this characteristic isn´t as hidden as I would like it to be) know I can be a bit of a pistol. I believe my Mom once described me as ¨the spirited one¨, which is a more fattering way to put it, more than I probably deserve. My friends and I joke it is the ¨Everett¨ in me. I fight for the principle and for those that might not fight for themselves. No one likes a bully.

Well, I made it exactly one week before being mugged, or more appropriately stated - attempted mugging. On my way into the new part of town, there is a nice two-way walking/biking path, running slightly above the busy street below, which I always take. This weekend, I was about a half a mile into the walking path when I noticed 3 young guys (maybe my age) walking and talking behind me. At this point, they are still a good 50 yards behind me. I wasn´t carrying a bag and quickly put my camera away in my zipped coat pockets. I turned and glanced over my shoulder twice - no change, but by the third time, the men were running. One grabbed my shoulders, the others pawing at my pockets, and shoved me up against the iron guard rail. I can tell you what was about to come out of my mouth even scared myself, a scream so loud and frightening. They looked a little stunned (go girl!) and began to back away, but not before pushing me down to the ground.

I picked myself up and tried to regroup as quickly as possible. I could turn around and walk the half a mile back to my house when they very well could turn around and come after me again at any point. Or, I could follow them another 50 yards, keeping them in my eye sight, to the busy street corner ahead. I chose to walk behind them, passing a man and woman, who clearly had to have heard my screams, yet, they do nothing.

Mugging tourists is a way of life for many in Quito. I know it has a lot to do with the poverty that surrounds them and I realize people resort to acts they may not otherwise engage in if it is a way of survival, yet, I struggle with the principle, honesty, that is broken repeatedly each day here. However, I know Dorothy isn´t in Kansas anymore, we need to put the pistol away and leave Everett in America. I no longer walk on that path, I´ve stopped listening to my iPod when walking on the street, and I´ve bumped up my mandatory Taxi time to 6pm.

I caught up with the men at the crowded street corner and they turned one last time to look at me. I couldn´t help myself, just this one time - I smiled, gave them the widely used American middle finger, with the ever-so-popular verbal salutation to follow. I then crossed the street and began jogging the rest of the way, making it about one block before the tears started to stream. I am totally ok, I promise. I blame the adrenaline and my tears were quickly dried by the end of the next corner.

Ecua´s Gone Euro...or Vegas, maybe NY?

Ok, I wasn´t goint to post anything today as I have chatted your ears off, but just had to have you share in my new discovery. Hello Gringo Landia! If I am ever homesick, just come to the cross streets of Jose Calama and Juan Leon Mera and you will find Papaya Net, an internet cafe and bar. In a way, I feel like I am in Vegas with all the bright lights, but also maybe a bit of NY with the all the fun bars, then there are all the Europeans who make you feel like you are back in Western Europe. Regardless, I have a large Pilsener beer (the Ecuadorian favorite) to my left and I am contently waiting for my friends (who I still need to introduce to you) to arrive for a Friday dinner and night out in the new town - Mariscal Sucre. In front of me, out the window, is a place called ¨Tomato¨, serving every kind of pizza and calzone you can imagine with a Nutella crepe for dessert. It is an entire block of restaurants, bars, and clubs full of students, travelers, and the savy locals. To add to the visual, Flo Rida´s ¨Low¨ is playing loudly through the speakers. ¨Boots with the fur....¨. Did someone tell them I was coming?

This weekend is Carnival in South America. I would imagine it will be quite the scene as people get both Monday and Tuesday off to celebrate the Holiday. I have read Carnival comes from the Italian word ¨carn-aval¨ which means the absence of meat, preceding the period of lent. I have also read, in Ecuador, the Huarangas Indians used to celebrate the second moon of the year. Regardless, the celebration starts today and runs through Tuesday. That is some celebration! Please enjoy the video below. It isn´t half as good as it was in person as I don´t think you can see him all that well, but had to share. This is an example of a local gettin´down at one of the clubs we went to the other night. The bar played both American and Salsa music, which was awesome to see to Latin American rhythm. I must preface, after this video was taken, this man began doing really inappropriate gestures and dance moves with his pelvic region. Sorry if I am offending anyone with that detail, it was just too much and when I say too much, I mean our facial expressions told this man to back up off and take his ¨region¨ some place else. Don´t worry, the girls and myself are all safe. We travel with as many guys as we do girls, all of whom speak Spanish fairly well. I am sure there will be a repeat offender tonight. They are harmless, I just don´t think they have ¨personal bubbles¨ here in Ecuador...at least on the dance floor.

Although fun, Gringo Landia is no America and I am still missing and thinking of you all. Xoxo.

Just Call Me Tia

My first day at the orphanage was on Tuesday. Patricio (the man who forgot me at the airport) came to my house to show me the way - a good 2 hours late....are we seeing a pattern here?People describe him as ¨Loco¨, nice but I think there is a screw or two loose. Anyway, a 20 minute walk later, I arrived, being the good student I am, with all my supplies - Play-Doh, Crayola Crayons, markers, colored pencils, etc.

I met the program leader, Maria, who briefly filled me in on the orphanage´s background. The building is literally a home for many women and children, with an offsite home where the men stay. Maria, herself, was once involved in drugs and this organization reached out to her, rehabilitated her and now, I believe she runs the Quito office. Maria said there are three different types of people who I would be encountering over the next month - orphans, what they call ¨street kids¨ and their parents, who, like Maria, were homeless and taken in by the orphanage, and kids coming from low income families who can´t afford to send them to a regular school in Quito. At the site, women live in a communal living space and help maintain the orphanage by day - working in the kitchen, sewing clothes and school uniforms for the kids, as well as general maintenance. If the women have children, they attend school or if they are between the ages of 1-3, they go to daycare. Volunteers, about 10 in total at the moment, help as needed. Many of the teachers in the school had already been assigned volunteers to help in their classroom. My first thought - please do not tell me they need help in the kitchen. Of course I would do it if needed, but it was going to be a mental challenge each day to get over my phobia of sponges and dirty dish rags. Maria doesn´t assign me to the kitchen...phew! She instead asks me to be in charge of the daycare. Say hello to your new teacher, los niños pequeños!

How hard could this be, right? At their age, the language barrier wouldn´t be as difficult and when she says ¨in charge¨, she doesn´t possibly mean I am the only one taking care of the kids for the 8:00 - 12:30 shift. She shows me to the ¨new space¨ they have created for the children and tells me a few will be arriving shortly. I look around and the space is about the size of an average bedroom, cement walls with some cartoon type drawings on them, and a box of toys, which contains a few bouncy balls, trucks, and dolls. Outside is a yard of sorts with a broken playset and a single swing that is actually functioning. Hmm...I don´t have a lot of experience taking care of kids, but this doesn´t seem like much to keep them busy for 4 1/2 hours.

Over the next 30 minutes or so, my door kept opening and one-by-one, a new little girl or boy, with an adult´s hand pushing their toosh through the door, would enter the room. Some took one look at me and starting crying. Now, standing in front of me, are 8 girls and boys in total. The youngest being 1 and the oldest probably around 5 (why he was not in school, I am not sure, but didn´t attempt to ask in my Spanglish). I don´t think that is a legal ratio back in the States - 8 to 1? After the `back Alison into a corner and kick balls at her´ game got old, we went outside to run off some of this energy.

I was told, ¨the weather in Quito is like the women of Quito - always changing¨(ha ha). It is sunny one minute and raining the next. As the playset was broken, I quickly became the jungle gym. One kid at a time, sometimes two at once, would climb up my legs and into my arms. From the rain, the grass and dirt is a muddy mess and now, I am wearing that muddy mess. I openly admit, I have never been one with dirt, but after about 1 minute of trying to strategically place their shoes and wiping the mud off, I gave up. With each new kid around my waist, don´t think for a second I didn´t check each of the parts in their hair to see if there were any creepy crawlers. Nope, we all look good to go and I soon relaxed. That is until a little girl climbed up on the cement wall and stuck her little body through the iron fence and was half way over the ledge of a 2 story drop off. Good thing the word ¨no¨ is the same in English and Spanish. Running and screaming ¨No, No, No¨ she was pulled down and we were going back inside.

Oh goody, paint and paper arrived while we were outside enjoying ourselves. To all you mothers out there, what is the appropriate age to start bringing out activities like paint? My guess is not before the age of 3. Paint was everywhere except on the paper and the water bowls were soon dumped all over the floor. Resources are limited, so I grabbed a mop from the kitchen and used my package of kleenex to try and clean up the mess. We were back to bouncy balls.

I am about to conclude my first week at the orphanage. The kids call me ¨Tia¨. At first, I would try and correct them, saying my name was Alison, thinking to myself, how does one even make Tia out of Alison? Until a ¨Tio¨ came in, I didn´t realize it means Aunt or is sometimes used for teacher. So, just call me Tia and I will answer. 

These kids have nothing. Most have lost their teeth or are starting to as a result of there being no money for dental care nor is there a priority for hygiene. Before the daycare room was prepared for the kids, I was told they would all just wander around the building unsupervised, volunteers stepping in when they saw one of them unchaperoned. Most don´t have mothers or fathers and so who knows what kind of attention and love they receive throughout the day. However, I am realizing these kids don´t want you to cry for them. They don´t realize the toys they are missing out on as they don´t know any different. They just want your attention, love, and to be held. So the next time I feel like crying, I am going to grab the kid nearest to me and we are going to hug it out.

So sorry, this is already such a long post, but I want to share photos of a few of the tots. 

Keeping it real in Quito - Al. 

This is Samuel (aka Tank). The kid is about as dense as a meatloaf dinner. Weighs a ton!

Meet Anna. I think she and I would have been good friends. She is quiet as a mouse, just observing and playing quietly. She is my best sharer (ok, that may have not been me as a kid).

Rosita, me, Carmen and Tank

This is the painting, kickball, and daycare room. 

The broken swing set and yard in which the kids play in. 

This is the orphanage, the bottom room with the sliding glass door is the daycare.