Año Nuevo

New Years Eve didn’t bring quite as much homesickness along with it.   They have a lot of great traditions here that I’ve never heard of or seen anywhere else.  When I was asked out American traditions, I felt kind of strange explaining that we watching a giant glowing ball drop on the TV and then usually party all night.  Here, they make “años viejos” or “old years.”  These are paper mache figures that are stuffed with fireworks and burned at midnight.  The idea is to burn the old year—to get rid of old regrets, failures, habits, etc. and to make room for the new year with its new opportunities.  Neighborhoods and local stores and organizations make huge presentations of años viejos, which are judged in a contest.  Around 9pm on New Years Eve, everyone in the city goes out to check out this years’ set ups and decide for themselves which is the best.  My two favorites: one depicted the process of making Ecuadorian sunhats, which is a important, traditional art in my area, while the other played some of the most vulgar regaetton music and had dancing scenes from the discoteca [keep in mind… these are all life size figures made of paper mache and placed on huge wooden platforms… it was INCREDIBLE to see how much they got into it].  To pay for it all, men dress up as the “widow” of the old year and ask for money in the streets.  After our tour around the city, we went back to the house for dinner with all of the family.  Turkey was the main dish, but there were crab rolls, farm raised chickens, fried rice, salad, etc. etc.   As soon as we finished eating, the minutes were ticking down to 12.  Everyone made at least some attempt to stuff 12 grapes in their mouth with the last 12 seconds of the old year, and at 12 on the dot, the champagne poured and the fireworks were lit.  The años viejos were doused with gasoline and thrown up in flames, and as every car alarm began to sound from the rumbling booms of firecrackers, everyone cheered, cried, and wished one another the best in the new year.  And, as if there weren’t enough things going on, a few running laps around the urbanization with suitcases were made to ensure frequent traveling in 2012.  After the festivities died down we went up stairs to get primped and prepared for the next step: the partying.  Even my parents went out to party… it seemed like all of Portoviejo was heading out.  There are huge, formal parties with $25 dollar entrances and required invitations.  But, in the end I headed to a friends house who’s parents had decided to throw a party for the exchange students.  After enough dancing and food to kill me, I headed back to the house around 6 am, slipped into my bed, and slept well into the new year. 

La Navidad

Today after French class, I hung out with my friend Emma [a fellow American exchange student] at her house.  As is our tradition, we decided to paint our finger and toenails with the most obscene colors [or color-sparkle combinations] possible.  While we were in the bathroom picking out color combinations, I was admiring the Christmas themed toilet cover.  Not only was it Christmas themed, but it included pompoms, some sequins, and the words “FELIZ NAVIDAD” in bold white letters.  We decided that bringing back a few Christmas themed toilet covers would better represent the Ecuadorian culture than some kind of alpaca sweater or postcard from the Galapagos.  Christmas decorating is a way of life in Ecuador.  EVERYTHING is decked out—Supermarkets, malls, bathrooms, bedrooms—I’ve even seen special silverware sets with snowflakes on them.  To top it off, there’s no Thanksgiving to mark the “socially acceptable” beginning of Christmas decorating.  Early November hits and the world becomes a Christmas wonderland. If you have the money, huge nativity scenes are a must, both inside and outside.  In my house, there were three women who sat in my living room for three days decorating—the tree, banisters, guest bathroom, chairs, mantles, etc.  Emma and I also decided that we miss ugly Christmas trees that are not professionally decorated and aren’t completely color coordinated.  A few of those hideous ornaments that we made at Christmas parties 15 years ago never seemed quite so beautiful.  Anyway… so we finally make it to Christmas Eve.  In Ecuador, they open presents at midnight on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas morning.  At 8:30pm, we are still whizzing around toy stores, searching in the mall, and trying to buy tape and gift bags. We start eating around 11:30.  Pork, chicken, fish, etc… everything is piled onto a giant plate that is set in front of you.  Coke, strawberry soda, and Nestea are passed around the table, seconds are offered, and everyone eats until they’re stuffed.  Next up—presents.  My own gifts were well received, and I was given some lovely ones too, including a giant, stuffed angry bird.  After gifts, we sat and played Jenga [one of my little brother’s presents] until 3 in the morning, and then headed up to bed.  Asi se acabó la navidad.

La Costa

Last week, all of Ecuador had school and work vacation.  As is the norm here on the coast, we all headed off the to the beach.  My parents own a small beach house in San Jacinto, one of the small but popular beaches that draws hoards tourists and Ecuadorians alike.  Luckily, my cousin from the US has been working here in Ecuador, and was able to visit me during the break.  We got to enjoy the true Ecuadorian beach experience together, and also got to catch up on just about everything under the sun [“3^rd world toilet experiences” to the struggles of hand washing clothing to the famous delicacy, cuy [guinea pig]].  He also motivated me to start reading more Spanish texts, not only to practice and gain vocab, but also because there are some really fabulous writers from South/Latin America that few Americans get to experience in their non-translated original versions.   After I got home I did invest in a National Geographic Traveler magazine, which I’ve been very, very, very slowly making my way through.   

What struck me about the beach was just how different it was from the rest of Ecuador.  One of the most interesting things about this country is it’s diversity—the culture, the food, the climate, the accents, the general way of life—even though its so small.  I technically live on the coast.  I’m about 30-40 minutes from the ocean, and the culture here is certainly different from that in the Sierras [mountains] or the Orient [eastern part].  But, the REAL coast—where a 5-10 minute walk gets you to the beach, is a completely different zone.  The best word to describe it is “tranquila.” Tranquila is a favorite word here, and is pretty generally used for anything calm, peaceful, and quiet.  The houses on the beach were pretty small and rickety [usually made out of some kind of cane or cement], but they are all painted these beautiful blues and peaches.  The streets are quiet during the day, and you can plop yourself down in a hammock and swing with that sticky sea wind that we all love so much.  Before meals, we sat around the kitchen table and talked, listening to my mom and aunt chatter in incomprehensible Spanish, zipping around barefoot in the tiny kitchen, preparing the foods that have been popular here on the coast for hundreds and thousands of years.   The only time of the day that you might actually “hurry,” is to finish your food so that the next group can sit down at the kitchen table to eat.  The whole family, friends, distant relatives, etc. drop by for a meal or just to chat, so there is always a need for more chairs, more space, and another plate. 

I was also lucky enough to get a bit of a “beach tour.”  I’ve already been to Puerto Lopez [very touristy, famous beach where you eat meals in hammocks and can take a horseback adventure along the water for $2], Crucita [beach closest to Portoviejo—most Ecuadorians say that it’s ugly, but for US standards I’d say its pretty beautiful], and Manta [beach town that could be mistaken for parts of Florida—very modernized].   But, there are a few beaches that I’ve heard countless stories about—basically beaches with no police or laws, where everyone goes crazy at night [and to some extent during the day].  They’re gorgeous beaches and huge tourist attractions, but their reputation is what’s really recognized.  After a decent amount of pleading from my sister, my parents agreed to take us [during daylight hours, for about an hour and a half] to show us what it was all about.  The beaches were PACKED, and there were tiny stores and restaurants lining every street.  There were bars right on the beach, and there were men pushing carts full of fresh coconuts, that they’ll chop a hole into and slip in a straw for about a dollar 50.  There were tons of thru-hikers, hippies with dreds, someone questionable people dressed up as all sorts of random things, and then armies of curious tourists and Ecuadorians.

It was a fantastic vacation, and I’m looking forward to the holidays when all of Ecuador swarms the coast and indulges in ‘full fiestas.’

10s

10 things that the US is missing out on:

1.     Hammocks. They are everywhere here.  I am certainly bringing one back for my dorm room.

2.      Chifle.  Ecuadorian version of potato chips.

3.     Eating tree-ripened mango… there is no equivalent.

4.     Reggaeton.

5.     Good dancing… we have quite the reputation as terrible dancers.

6.     Recess for high schoolers.

7.     Nationwide vacations (from school, work, etc.) that are mandated by the government.

8.     Taxi rides costing less than $3.

9.     Having a more affectionate greeting [cheek kiss].  The handshake just seems so insufficient and distanced to me now.

10.  Cooking almost everything from scratch.  There’s not a whole lot of “Oh, just pop it in the microwave” here.

10 things I miss about the US:

1.     Salads. Really just vegetables in general…

2.     No one is surprised/offended when you say you aren’t religious.

3.     Rare steak. Chicken breast.

4.     Women aren’t expected to be quite as dressed up all the time. I miss going out in my sweat pants and t-shirt.

5.     Seasons.

6.     Being able to go on long runs.

7.     Incredible respect for individuality.

8.     Being punctual.

9.     Americanized Chinese food. 

10.  Fast, reliable internet [that is always present…].

La Comida

When I left for Ecuador, I never expected the food to be quite as different as it is.  I can still find ingredients for my PB&J (if I’m willing to splurge $9 on a jar of peanut butter) but for the most part I’ve had to adapt to a very different eating style.  In the US, our meals (especially breakfast) consist of very different foods.  Breakfast is almost always toast, cereal, coffee, and maybe some eggs and bacon if you’re feeling adventurous.  Here, ceviche and encebollada (basically cold and hot versions of the same fish soup with lime, red onions, and cilantro) are popular breakfasts here on the coast.  The soup is served with chifle, which is something like a potato chip made out of plantain.  You crunch up the chifle and pour it in your soup bowl, and then shovel down the entire concoction.  At first that whole process just seemed really strange (and not so appetizing) but now ceviche is one of my favorite meals, and I can’t go a day without eating chifle. I have a 9:00am date with two Ecuadorian friends and a fellow Americans to grab encebollada on Thursday.  Luckily, my stomach is finally adjusting to this kind of diet, and I’m feeling pretty confident that I can prove myself tomorrow as a true Ecuatoriana.  Lunch and dinner usually consist of a bowl of  soup and then a second course of meat, rice, and some type of “salad.”  I have yet to figure out what the soups consist of, but I usually resist the temptation to ask.  There are usually hunks of cheese and meat, cilantro, potato, etc. I’ve also learned this much about the mystery soups:

Sticky, gooey, brown, balls: plantain

Stringy, potato-like pieces: yucca

Soggy bread-like circles: rosca (sort of like a ring shaped cracker)

Lentil-ish stew: menestra (pretty much the same thing as lentil stew, but a different species of plant)

With the soup comes a plate with white rice, some kind of meat (usually cooked through VERY well done, and served in very thin slices), and some type of salad (macaroni salad, a cucumber, lettuce, and tomato salad, plantain (verde = less ripe, served whole with margarine and peanuts, maduro = “mature,” sweeter, usually served fried in slices).  Unfortunately, they aren’t very big on veggies here. I dearly miss big green salads.  For drinks, my aunt usually makes “jugo natural” or natural juice, which is absolutely incredible.  Everything from pineapple to passion fruit, to some fruits I’ve never heard of—guanabana, níspero, etc. goes into these juices.  For snacks, I usually dig up some crackers or chifle.  I’ve also recently discovered Magnum ice cream bars, which are imported from Europe and are as delicious as anything with 420 calories. 

Overall, my appetite has expanded, I’m learning to appreciate the food more, and I’m definitely putting on the classic exchange student weight. I’ve heard “Amy, ¡te engordaste!” [Amy, you got fatter!] enough times to know that it’s a true fact.

 

Ecuatoriana

Yesterday, for the first time, I spoke like an Ecuatoriana--without my gringa accent.  We were waiting for class to start at my sister's university (I've starting going with her... I get to practice my calculus and my Spanish), and my sister was swatting at me over some joke.  I yelled "no me toques" (don't touch me), and everyone stopped laughing and stared.  Apparently it sounded like real Spanish, and not my slow, painfully thought out version.  I tried to say the same thing again, but whatever had worked the first time didn't work the second.  I was back to gringa speak.  But, either way, it was a little confidence boost that my Spanish is improving and I am learning to listen to the way that they speak here.  The only other phrase that I've ever said with a non-American accent is "mas o menos" (more or less).  The people on the coast of Ecuador speak very quickly, and usually drop the "s" on the end of words.  Saying something along the lines of "mahomenoh" usually does the trick.  I just have to keep practicing practicing practicing....

gringa

  So—I’ve already established myself as a terrible blogger.  The Ecuadorian slang term for lazy is “vaga,” and I’ve definitely been vaga in my blogging.  On the other hand, I haven’t been vaga in enjoying my everyday life.  I try to stay as busy as possible and even when I’m tired or feeling homesick, I pull myself out of it and try to participate in whatever is going on. 

These past few weeks, I’ve been working very hard to change my “gringa” (slang term for American girls) ways into la vida Ecuatoriana.  The whole business of dancing is quite a challenge for me and my fellow gringas, but we’re certainly learning.  The fist pump and head bob just aren’t accepted here.  My only set back so far was one instance when I was bobbing my head to a song in the car, and my 9 year old brother started hysterically laughing at me for a good 2 or 3 minutes.   But, I have to say, I’m lucky that I don’t need to follow the custom of wearing heels.  I’m already taller than most of the girls and about half the guys, so heels really don’t do my any favors—just enhance my enormity.   So far, I’ve had a few lessons in salsa from my mom, cousins, or other pittying onlookers, but so far, nothing dramatic has come of it.   I am starting to love Reggaeton, which the Ecuadorian/South American version of electronic or pop music. 

Another one of my recent “gringa moments” happened on my first trip to the feria [fair].  They have some of the familiar rides (zipper, ferris wheel, etc.) but also a selection of new ones that I’ve never seen. There’s one called the Tagada, which is basically an enormous flat circle with bench-like chairs around the outside (no seatbelts or safety restraints—just seats and metal bars to hold on to).  The wheel spins, tilts, shakes, and basically just heaves until people fall into the center of the wheel.  Everyone is laughing and screaming, and trying to crawl back to their seats, when the ride just miraculously stops.  The whole “that was fun, but thank God it’s over” passes through your head, but just as you stand up and start to head for the door, the ride starts up again.  Unfortunately, about half of the people on the ride knew about the trick, and half didn’t, including me. 

I am, luckily, adapting to the transportation process in Portoviejo.  No one wears seatbelts here, and I no longer have to hold onto the seat in front of me with both hands to stay in place.  I also don’t gasp as much when moving cars come within a few inches of each other, or when we invent new traffic lanes to pass people.  I’ve also learned how to call a taxi, and I can usually tell if they’re ripping me off (I usually pay what they ask anyway, but I at least have the satisfaction of knowing that I’m being ripped off).  Unfortunately, when I attempted to ride the Portoviejo bus, I had a very humbling experience.  The busses don’t really like to stop… they do for a few seconds, but once you’ve stepped up into the entrance, the bus is moving again (and when you get off, you basically leap and hope for the best).   They also drive really quickly through the narrow, unpaved back roads.  It’s pretty lurchy and jerky, and when I was trying to find a seat, I was falling all over the place and holding on to bars and chairs for dear life.   My Ecuadorian friends had a really good laugh, and the gringa was reminded that she still had much to learn…