Culture Shock

Culture shock is not pretty or pleasant, but without going through it, none of my perspectives would have changed.  The purpose of an exchange would never be achieved. Culture shock, to be honest, is nothing like I thought it would be.  I imagined it like this—You go to Tanzania in the Peace Corps, are living in a straw hut with no water and limited electricity.   Men, women, and children work 14-hour days, with the sole purpose being survival and passing on a better life to the next generation.  You finally realize how different their perspectives, goals, and desires are, and how wide the economic gap has grown.  Why should you, an 18-year-old American, have such a different and more privileged life?

So yeah… call me dumb, but when I think of culture shock, that’s what comes to mind.  And, I’m pretty sure I’m not alone. But, what I’ve found is something different. The biggest differences are sometimes the easiest to deal with.  You spot them, identify them, and realize that you’ll just have to accept them or you wont survive in your new destination.  I accepted the fact that I would see more poverty in the states.  It bothers me to see it, but I have to deal with it.  I accepted the fact that women and men have different social statuses here.  My sister and I clean the house, my brother fixes the car.  When I offer to help bring in groceries, I’m usually denied or given the lightest bags.  It’s different, but I’m not here to support women’s rights or equality.  I’m here to learn about Ecuador and learn about myself.  Culture shock, for me, are those days when I come home from school, drag myself upstairs, and miss all of the people and things that were so familiar.  When I miss understanding all the ropes.--never being surprised by some quirk that I had no idea existed.  Just knowing how everything works, how to communicate what I want, and how to get people to understand me 100%. 

For the most part, I’ve dealt pretty well with all of it.   I’m a flexible person.  I’m adaptable. But every now and then something just gets under my skin.   The fact that my religious beliefs aren’t very accepted can get a little uncomfortable. The fact that I have to dress up more when I go out sometimes seems a little strange.  But what I’ve learned is—the point isn’t to stick 100% to your own beliefs and values.  You have to put yourself in the shoes of the Ecuadorians--think of their lives from the time they were infants.  You can’t just try to understand their perspective from your own viewpoint.  You have to leave behind your cultural values, ideas, and upbringing, and look through theirs.  For example, I’ve learned to accept the fact that my parents will ask the last name of every one of my friends to make sure that they know the family. I realized that it’s because they just want to look out for me, and that in this culture, the people you go out with define your reputation. They don’t do it because they don’t trust me or because they’ll only let me go out with a certain class of people.  As my papi once told me—“Todos pagan por uno.”  I’m not sure if those were exactly the right words, but it’s basically that if one person in a group does something, everyone pays.  If some exchange students have a bad reputation, we all do.  If a group of my classmates has a reputation for drinking and I go out with them for one night, I’ll start to build the same reputation.

Another example that’s a little clearer---when I first got here, I was shocked by the difference in social status between men and women.  When I wasn’t allowed to carry heavier grocery bags, I would feel sort of angry and cheated.  But—I looked through the eyes of my brother or my dad.  They thought that they were being chivalrous and nice.  They were accepting the jobs that no one really wanted.  From their perspective, they were respecting me much more by taking those jobs than by letting me do them.  

I’m rambling. Anyway, getting back to this whole thing—THE POINT OF AN EXCHANGE.  You jump out of your comfort zone. You realize that even if you call yourself a liberal, free thinker, you aren’t.  I think it is impossible to realize how much our society affects us until we’ve gone to look beyond it, and had the audacity to question all of those things that we never even realize we took for granted.  It makes us rethink what we want to do with our time here and how we view ourselves in the context of our world.  Not only have I experienced that by putting myself in the shoes of the Ecuadorians, but just being out of my old town and in a completely new group of friends has changed my perspectives.  The exchange students in my town are always hanging out, and just being around them forces me to look at things differently.

So, what more can I say but thank you to all of the people who’ve made this happen for me.  They told us in orientations that we might get to our new host country and wonder what the heck we’re doing there and why we ever signed up.  I can say that I’ve never wondered.  I’ve had my moments of frustration—can’t say I enjoy being charged triple for taxis or being served soup with a duck foot sticking out of it—but there is this underlying point to being here that I don’t let myself forget.

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....