Giving My Blog Meaning

I fully intended for my next post to be about hospital trips 2, 3 and 4(I know the suspense is killing you), and the following to be about all my animal adventures, but present circumstances have forced me to write this post. Hold tight though, you will soon hear about hospital trips and animal attacks, and in case you were worried, I still have both legs.

When, I chose 'Off the Grid' as the name for my blog (and, yeah Dad, I'll give you credit, you helped come up with the name) I meant to evoke the idea of going off the American grid, off the known path, and stepping into a new adventure. I had no idea that the title "Off the Grid" would literally come to fruition.

I am usually a person who worries about everything, who plans for every possible worst-case scenario and who overanalyzes everything. It is for that reason that I find it interesting that I was so unprepared for my adventures here in Ecuador. I don't mean to say that I don't have enough sunscreen and bug-repellent to last a lifetime, or that I forgot to pack my underwear (Dad made sure to ask me before we left the house), it means that I did not really grasp what living in a developing country would be like. I never really thought through what life would be like, I just told myself, "You went to Spain and thrived, you can surely go to Ecuador and survive".

When I got here then, I was hit with major culture-shock. Whether it was remembering that I couldn't drink water out of the faucet (after 2.5 months I still try to fill my water bottle up at the faucet), or passing shack after shack on buses from Quito to the jungle, or having to constantly be aware of where I am walking for fear I will fall into giant manholes (really, there are 10 ft. deep holes 5 feet wide that just appear at intersections with no caution tape), everything was different. A lot of this is due to the fact that I am living in a developing town in a developing country. Sidewalks are surprisingly unwalkable, chickens roam the streets, roosters crow at all hours of the day, hospitals store materials in old gatorade bottles, recycling is unheard of, raw meat covered with flies hangs from hooks in open air stores, and many homes in town consist of tin roofs perched atop old boards haphazardly nailed together. This was all incredibly overwhelming to me in the beginning, and it took a few weeks before this became the new "normal" for me. A supportive technical team and welcoming and ever-worried neighbors helped with this transition.

My new normal has literally taken me 'Off the Grid'. I've briefly mentioned this before, but starting the first week in November, all of Ecuador began rationing power. Ecuador's power is hydroelectric and since Ecuador was suffering from a major drought, this meant we did not have power. Ecuador bought power from both Peru and Colombia, but this was not enough, and so, starting that first week of November up until today, daily scheduled power outages have happened in cities throughout Ecuador. At first these outages were 6 hours in length, then 4, then 3, and now just 2. In the beginning these outages disrupted my days, but soon I began planning around them, charging my computer when there was power, making sure my various lanterns and flashlights were ready to go, planning my meals (I quickly learned it is no fun to chop vegetables in the dark), and making sure I always had a good book to read. While the constant rain pounding on my roof since 4 this morning proves that Ecuador (at least the Oriente) is no longer in a drought, the power outages are still present. I am told the outages are scheduled to stop the 21st of December, though who knows if it will actually happen.

Water has also been touch-and-go. While I only drink filtered water that is delivered weekly in large jugs, I cook and clean with the tap water. During my first few weeks here, the water went out from 8:00 until 4:00 daily while road construction on the other end of town happened. I found these water outages just as disruptive as the power outages. More than once I came home from a day in the field, covered in chicken poop, dirt, sweat and bug repellent, made a beeline for the (cold) shower, and discovered that there was no water. Today the water has gone out once again, but this time not due to construction, but because of, according to my coworkers, the massive amount of rain we received that is overwhelming the water plant. I woke this morning at 9:00, ready for a day of laundry and cleaning, and discovered,when I went to brush my teeth that the plan would have to be scrapped.

When I get frustrated with these inconveniences, I often look out my windows at the mist settling on the tree-covered mountains and think "I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world". And in that way, living 'Off the Grid' has become my new normal.

That Time I Spent an Evening in an Ecuadorian Hospital

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving I headed out on my nightly walk to the town center. This walk is usually one of the highlights of my day: the sun is setting behind the mountains, the temperature drops (a bit) and I am able to talk to all of my favorite neighbors and shop owners since every one is out at this time of day. On this particular day I decided to take my camera, and I was snapping pictures of the church, the central park/plaza, and the hospital. I am convinced that the pictures of the hospital are what precipitated future events. Before heading home, around 6:30, I stopped to buy some bread and some folders for the office, and then I headed back home, crossing through the central plaza.

The central plaza is not lit during the night, I assume due to our power shortage and power cuts. So, I’m walking through the park, thinking what a good evening I have had, and suddenly my left leg has fallen into some sort of hole up to my knee. I look down to see that my leg has slipped through a sewer grate. Before you accuse me of being clumsy, I must point out that this sewer runs across the entire pathway, so there is no way of walking around it. Anyways, my first thought is, “Wow, this is embarrassing” as there were three teenage boys sitting on the steps of the church laughing at me. My second thought was, “I broke my favorite pair of shoes”. My third thought was “I’ll have to wash my leg well when I get home”. I knew I had scraped my leg up (I did fall through a metal sewer) but at that point did not know to what extent. It wasn’t until I was examining my shoe again that I noticed my leg was literally gushing blood. I looked again and freaked out when I saw my shinbone. It was certainly one of those moments where I thought, “Shoot, I am in Ecuador, I don’t have a cell phone, Spanish is not my primary language, and that hospital is not a hospital I want to go to”.

I really had no idea what to do, and decided I would walk the 10 minutes home and ask my neighbors for help. That plan changed about 30 seconds later, when in a lot of pain and definitely not very composed, I decided to stop at the pharmacy and ask the pharmacist there what he thought I should do. I have gotten to know this pharmacist pretty well, as he has helped pick ticks of my body, has greeted me daily as I pass his store, and has also warned me that I may be kidnapped since I am the most beautiful girl in Archidona (quite an odd compliment if you ask me). I walked in the store, and he immediately asked “Laurita, qué pasó?” At this point I was a bit overwhelmed, and this simple question sent me into tears as I struggled to explain that I fell into a metal sewer grate (this is a difficult task when there is no word for sewer in Spanish). He immediately pulled me into a back room filled with needles and bandages and medicines and sat me down on the bed. Knowing that I did not want this man giving me any serious medical treatment, I asked him what he was doing, and he replied that he was merely cleaning off the wound. A few seconds later, he looks up and says, “You need to go to the hospital, RIGHT NOW”.

I hurried my way across the street to the hospital, all the while thinking how crazy this was, and then struggled to enter the hospital, as it was already closed. I wandered around for a while until I found a man with keys that unlocked the door but did not lead me in any direction. Eventually, I found a nurse and explained the situation, and then I sat in the hallway until someone came and let me into the operating room. I walked in, quickly surveying the room, and couldn’t believe what I saw. There was blood on the floor and the stepstool, there was no sheet on the bed (a plastic vinyl bed) the walls were crumbling, and there were dirty dressings all over. After this crude introduction, the nurse started asking me dozens of questions, fixating on the fact that I was not married, single, and living alone. Exasperated, she finally asked, “Is there anyone you know here that I can use as a contact?” During this time I started feeling as if I was about to pass out, and having fainted many times before, I knew it was coming. I tried to communicate this and my need for something to drink, but lacking the word for faint all I could come up with was, “I feel very sick, I feel like I am going to fall asleep, I need something to drink”. The nurse did not seem to care, and told me to just take deep breaths. I continued to feel worse and worse, until I remembered that before falling in a sewer I had bought a meringue when I bought my bread. I immediately reached for my purse and began rummaging around until I came up with my crushed meringue and started stuffing my face. It was at this point that the doctor came in, and I repeated “I feel” and he adds, “Like you are going to die” and I said “No, I feel very sick and like I am going to fall asleep, I need something to drink”. He came back with a shot glass full of water, and I quickly downed it before laying down on what I am sure was a very contaminated bed.

I am convinced the doctor as well as the nurses think I am totally insane, as I insisted on a play-by-play of everything that they were doing. I did not want the doctor cutting, injecting, or sewing anything before I knew it was happening. I would be this way even in the U.S., but after seeing that the liquid he was using to clean my leg came out of a Gatorade bottle, I was even more convinced that I needed to know what was happening. While some of you may think I am blowing all of this out of proportion, I will say that a hole that goes to your bone in the U.S. is one thing, but it is a totally different situation when you are in a developing country, alone, speaking in another language.

The problem was that it was a very deep cut (as I said, to my bone) but there really wasn’t any skin to cover it up with. The doctor ended up cutting off what little skin remained before cleaning and then anesthetizing the leg (directly in the cut, multiple times). I think this is the moment the nurses (I use nurses because I am relatively sure I was the only American girl ever to step foot in the hospital, and for this reason EVERY nurse in the hospital stopped by) determined I was crazy. I took one look at the huge needle (at least six inches long) that he was going to stick into my cut, and said “And WHAT are you going to do with that?” and quickly turned my head away. The nurses started laughing hysterically, and after I explained that I can’t look at needles or any of that kind of stuff, the doctor switched to a much smaller needle. After that, he sewed me up with three very tight stitches (when I went to get them removed the other doctors were commenting on them). I used this time to practice my Spanish, and so further solidified my status as the crazy American girl as I lay on the dirty bed while the doctor worked on my leg, chewing away at my meringue while talking about anything and everything. I like to think I kept the doctor and the nurses entertained that evening. Knowing that the entire hospital would be referring to me as “La Loca Gringa” (the Crazy American) anyway, I seized the opportunity to take a few pictures of the hospital, which of course prompted more laughter. So after many shots, many perplexed looks, three stitches, and a stack of prescriptions, I was ready to go. I had to pay a whopping $7.50 for my medical services (perhaps this explains the blood all over, they can’t afford to hire a janitor), and was instructed to go back to the pharmacist to get my pain medication, antibiotic and tetanus shot.

Probably laughing at something I said.

Notice the Gatorade bottle.

This is when things got even more interesting. Apparently, a very large soccer game was going on in Ecuador, and as TVs are limited here in Archidona, the pharmacist had 6 of his closest male friends crowded into the pharmacy, all happily drinking, smoking and cheering. They all parted to let me by, and I told the pharmacist what I needed as I tried my best not to block the screen. I was given my first two prescriptions without a problem, but the pharmacist insisted that he give me the shot there, and that the flask was too big to take to the hospital. I, not wanting a man who had been drinking to give me a shot, tried my best to convince him to let me take the shot to the hospital, but was ultimately unsuccessful. Thus, in front of 6 Ecuadorian men, I dropped my underpants and hiked up my dress to get my tetanus shot in the butt. I can guarantee no one was watching the game at this point. And with that shot, so ended my Medical Adventure in Ecuador, or so I thought…

You Know it is Hot as Hell When...

The Jesus stickers on your bedroom windows start melting.

I’ve been told that temperatures have consistently been around 35 degrees Celsius. That translates to 95 degrees Fahrenheit. Two points:

1) That does not include humidity. In case you forgot, I live in the rainforest, so there is plenty of humidity.

2) This is supposedly the coolest season of the year.

Laura's Development Theory

Disclaimer: Pretend I am writing for The Onion, and don’t get too offended.

As an International Studies and Environmental Studies major, I spent a lot of time throughout college studying the “development theory”, in other words, studying why some countries remain underdeveloped while others are able to continue developing and become front-runners in the international system. After over a month in a developing country I have come to believe that the staple theory i.e. the prevalence of a high concentration of natural resources in developing countries, the subsequent colonization of these countries and the lingering postcolonial legacies inhibiting countries’ development, is a bunch of over-intellectualized crud.

My theory: it is just too darn hot to think in these countries, let alone develop. The majority of developing countries are in the south, which is why when talking underdeveloped vs. developed the north vs. south dichotomy is often introduced. It is generally hotter in the south, and many developing countries are situated along the equator. So while developed countries are blessed with ice, snowstorms, and frigid below zero temperatures, developing countries are plagued with blistering sun and humid air (recently one of the técnicos said, “We are in a desert with trees”, as we are suffering a major drought and it is unseasonably hot here). You want the developing world to discuss the implementation of democratically elected leaders who did not buy their seat and won’t plague the country with corruption? Nonsense, it is just too hot to think about that. Instead, I think I’ll go take a nice cold shower, but only if the water is working, which is a slim possibility, as it is also too hot to figure out how to do road construction without turning off all the water in the entire city from 9-5 daily for the past three weeks.

So there you have it, international studies students the world over can stop studying the ridiculous theories of development and embrace the most likely theory: It is hot as hell in the developing world, and no one can think straight in hell.

Mindo el Lindo

A Warning: First, I apologize for the massive delay in this post. I do however, have valid excuses. I have worked 19 consecutive 10+ hour days without a day off, and Ecuador is in a major drought, and our power is hydroelectric, therefore our power is cut daily for anywhere between 3 and 8 hours. Second, I must warn you that this post is basically a novel. So maybe you should bring over a snack, a drink, a pillow in case you get tired, and, especially you mom, your reading glasses, because this is going to be a long one.

Halloween Weekend was a four-day weekend in Ecuador (something to be treasured) as here “Día de los Difuntos” (Day of the Dead) is celebrated. As Archidona itself barely has enough to keep you occupied for an evening, and always obsessed with travel, I decided to join my boss (Tyler), my Quito roommate, Scott, and my boss’s South African friend Wayne and his girlfriend, Paula on a trip to Mindo. Mindo is a touristy cloud forest community 2 hours northwest of Quito, well know for its rivers and waterfalls. I had been to Wayne and Paula’s house for a soccer game when we watched Ecuador lose to Uraguay in the last minuets of the game due to a stupid referee, thus knocking them from World Cup Running, and I knew that I enjoyed their company.

To get to Mindo, I first had to take a bus to Quito on Friday evening. I will admit that I was a little nervous and not excited for the solo 5 hour bus ride from Tena to Quito during the night, but I eventually decided it was worth it. Plus, the cab ride from Archidona to Tena to catch a bus introduced me to my new, personal cab driver. A cab driver is gold here, as there is no general number you can call to get a cab and cabs are sometimes hard to find in Archidona. Now however, I have Panfico’s name and number, and have been instructed to call him whenever I need a ride anywhere. The bus ride was in fact the best ride I have had yet, but mayhem hit when I arrived in Quito around 10:00 pm. Since it was a holiday weekend, everyone was traveling, and the bus station was the busiest I had seen it yet. I weaved my way through the hoards of people and found myself a cab driver, first making sure he knew where my street was (as I can’t keep the Quito streets straight) and then securing the price of $8.

This is when things start going downhill. 30 minutes later, we were lost, him telling me he was going to charge me extra. After 45 minutes in the cab (normally a 30 min. ride) we arrived at Casa Runa (where the employees in Quito live) and the cabbie turns to me and says “$15”. I of course, was not pleased, and explained to him that normally it is a 30 min. ride, but with major traffic and him getting lost it turned into a 45 min. ride, and that it was not my fault there was bad traffic, and that he told me he knew where the street was. I was able to talk him down to $10, which I still believe to be a total rip-off, and then gave him a nasty look before going inside.

Saturday morning we got off to a slow start, as our ride bailed on us, but luckily we still had our junker truck, and Tyler, Scott, Noe (the dog) and I piled into the truck, Noe tied in the back with the compost. We had been planning on taking our big compost bucket (full of fruit and veggie scraps they had been collecting for months) to an organic farm. Not even five minutes into the trip, the compost bucket spilled, covering the dog and the truckbed in compost juices. Just opening the truck door was a mistake, as compost stench filled my nostrils. Tyler got out to fix the the bucket and clean up what he could, and when he got back in the truck Scott calmy said “Man, I can smell your hand”, and we could. As I mentioned, Quito was packed with travelers, and just getting out of Quito proved to be an adventure. At one point, Tyler stopped the truck on the side of the road (kind of) and asked Scott to get out and by him a phone card for his cell phone. Scott speaks minimal Spanish, and he came out to tell us that they didn’t have the card Tyler wanted but that they had a bunch of 3 dollar cards, and Tyler said he didn’t want them, Scott walked back to the store, then came out and said that he thought they were already printing the cards, to which Tyler responded, “Did you pay yet?”. When Scott said he didn’t, Tyler told him to jump in the car and we drove off, soon however, Scott yelled out “Someone is chasing us down!” and then he was locking all the doors and reaching for his mace (despite being at least 6 ft. and very muscular, he carries his mace everywhere he goes, and I have been told he also walks around Quito with a small knife and flashes it whenver someone threatening looking walks by). So, the doors are locked, and he is telling us how he is going to mace this guy, and then, the guy runs past. Apparently, he was not interested in us at all. This of course led to excellent mental images of someone gripping onto the truck window (I should also say that 3 of the 4 truck windows were broken after supposedly being fixed, and since we were driving in the rain the boys had to use all their power to push the windows back up) as Scott sprayed mace in his eyes, it also led to many mace jokes throughout the weekend. It was a beautiful 2 hour drive to Mindo, with excellent music, reminding me how much I love roadtrips (no matter the length). My top roadtrip still remains New Zealand however, I don’t know if it can ever be topped.

When we got to Mindo we drove straight to a river, where we threw the dog in the water, attempting to get the horrible compost stench out, and we dumped the compost in the weeds (we gave up on going ot the organic farm). We were all gagging as the boys dumped the compost, the smell filling our noses. After getting that out of the way, we drove to our hostel/hotel. The place, El Quetzal, is owned by an American family that Tyler met last time he was in Mindo, and serves excellent food. The family was not there, but an American, Joe who now runs the place and two friendly Ecuadorian girls were. The hotel is still under construction, so there were only two rooms, and we were the only guests. The best part about the place, other than the fantastic service, was that they grow their own cacao, which means they make their own chocolate, which means I was in heaven. You could buy chocolate bars, chocolate milkshakes, hot chocolate, and what the boys on the trip have labeled the best brownies ever. After checking in to our rooms with beautiful views of the Mindo and the mountains, we headed to the river again. We hiked up through rapids to get to some good swimming places, and then just hung out there for a while.

Sunday morning I woke up to the two Ecuadorian girls yelling, “He ate the chickens, they are going to kill him”. Apparently, during the night Noe attacked and killed the neighbor’s chickens, and the neighbors were about to inject him with some kind of venom to kill him, but Tyler talked them out of it. Sunday afternoon we met up with Wayne and Paula who had just arrived from Quito and hiked to a family’s property we had been told about that encompasses100 acres of protected primary forest that are excellent for hiking. It was a really beautiful forest, and a nice hike, with breathtaking views of Mindo as the sun began it’s downward slide. Throughout the hike we kept our eyes peeled for the speckled bear that supposedly lives there, and while Scott is convinced he saw one (it was really a falling leaf), we didn’t see any large wildlife.

The top of our hike:

That evening was our most anticipated activity: night tubing. Basically, a bunch of innertubes are tied together, and you head down a river filled with rapids while two Ecuadorian guides dressed in jeans and rubber boats prevent you from hitting anything too dangerous, or manage to free you when you and your group are wedged between one too many rocks. We decided to make it all the more extreme by going at night, and Joe (the guy running the hotel) set us up with his business. By 8:15 we were sitting in a truckbed that is obviously used to transport livestock, never feeling so much like livestock ourselves, peering through the slats in the wood sides as we raced through the dirt roads, with our tubes balanced above us.

We tubed down that section (always keep your butt up)

We finally arrived and stripped down to our swimsuits, not eager to get into the freezing water in the middle of the night. After about 1 minute of instruction on what to do (keep your butt up and don’t put your feet in the water) we were loading into the tubes. Our guides were soon splashing water at us, yelling, and then, we were on our way down the river. All of Ecuador is experiencing a major drought right now, and everyone I talk to attributes it to global warming (they seem to have a better grasp on this then many Americans, perhaps because they suffer from it more directly), and so, even though the river should be at its highest point right now, it was pretty low. This meant that our guides were often yelling at us to bounce as they tried to get us unwedged from rocks and that it was not quite as extreme as I had hoped. When I got to feeling this way however, I thought, “I am in a river, in a cloud forest, in Ecuador, in the middle of the night, going down rapids on a tube”. One of my favorite parts was watching the guides, as they would often stand on boulders to push us off, and then have to jump onto the tubs, looking something like flying squirrels as the full moon lit up their profiles. None of us have any idea how long we were racing down the river, but eventually we reached the end, and then climbed on top of a large bus and set on benches drilled into the ceiling to get back to town.

Monday we set out to do some waterfall hiking, and were met by massive amounts of national tourists. This meant the waterfalls weren’t as secluded as we had hoped, but that didn’t stop us from jumping off a 40 ft. cliff into a waterfall. I had been told to pick up my feet before hitting the water so I didn’t hit the bottom: BAD IDEA…I hit the water full force with my butt, and I definitely was feeling the pain for the following days. After our waterfall hike and another great meal at El Quetzal, we packed out and headed back to Quito, not ready to jump back into the work week (I’d much rather jump off a 40 ft cliff).

In case you didn't think I did it:

5'5" (and 1/2) in Ecuador

Ecuadorians as a whole are pretty short people. This topic has come up numerous times, whether while watching my boss (at 6 ft. he is considered a giant) play volleyball, while buying motos and listening to the técnicos complain about how tall the motos are, or while working in the communities.

Last Friday (October 30^th) at 8:00 am I headed out to a community with one of our two female técnicos to help construct a vivero (nursery). We took a 20-minute cab ride (all taxis here are yellow pick-up trucks since paved roads are few and far between (even in Archidona)), and then we were de-boarding the taxi to find two very angry dogs waiting for us. Luckily, we were armed with machetes, shovels and a rake, and were thus able to fend the dogs off as they chased us from the center of the community to the president’s home.

We briefly talked to the president, and then he produced a huge snail shell and started blowing into it, calling the community to action. I was told that this is a dying art form, but it used to be used regularly to call community members in, as well as announce a death in the community. This particular community seems to be saddened by the loss of tradition, as throughout the day they talked about what used to be, and how sad it is that children no longer carry out certain traditions, like waking up at 3:00 in the morning to drink guayusa and listen to their elders’ stories.

Slowly but surely community members wandered over to the main plaza, and then we walked across the soccer field, behind a few homes, and into the rain forest to build the vivero. A plot was staked out, and soon everyone had machetes in hand and was clearing the ground, chopping down small bushes and clearing it of any weeds. In no time we had our plot cleared, and it seemed as though some community members were already bored. A core four along with the técnico and I stayed behind to dig up the ground, pull weeds out of the dirt pile, add sand to the dirt to make it a perfect growing mixture, build the plant beds out of old, fallen trees, build the shade structure out of bamboo (my specialty), and add the roof. Throughout the process the men would disappear for 30 minutes at a time, walking deeper into the rainforest, and would later appear with long poles of bamboo for the structure, or old trees for the plant beds, palm leaves for the roof, or a specific kind of branch that they split to make rope.

Clearing the land.

Determining the layout.

Mixing the soil and pulling the weeds out.

The structure and the first plant bed.

While I had been feeling slightly useless throughout most of the day as, one, I have yet to master the art of the machete (I really want to show up in a community with a totally bejeweled machete, just to see everyone’s reactions to a white girl coming in with a machete covered in jewels and glitter) and, two, I don’t know how to properly chop a bamboo plant, or get palm leaves of a tree, my moment to shine came when we were adding the bamboo crossbeams to the shade structure. The crossbeams needed to be tied to the structure with our jungle rope, and seeing as, at 5’5’ and ½, I was by far the tallest one there, the job fell to me. I tied each and every crossbeam down, while the men rested for a change, talking to me about my need for a kichwa boyfriend. I’m not quite sure what the obsession is with having me date a kichwa man, but it is a common theme, whether I am sitting in the office in Archidona or out in the communities, it is one of the main conversation topics. I did however, very much enjoy my time with the four men and the técnico I was working with, and it was nice to see what 6 hours of hard work in the sun could produce.

The work of a "giant".

Adding the palm-roof.

The group (minus the técnico).

After the men took celebratory shots, we were lucky to find a taxi that had just finished dropping someone off in the community and we jumped in. Exhausted and hot after a long day of work, I hopped in the shower and then prepared for my weekend trip to Mindo (read about it in the next entry!).

A side note: Word may have spread that I don’t drink chicha, as it was passed around and never, thankfully, offered to me.

You Know the Food in Ecuador is Bad When...

Your coworker continuously praises the buttered noodles you made him for lunch, and then brags to all the other técnicos about the delicious lunch "Laurita" made.

Chicken Foot Soup and Guayusa

I officially “moved in” to my new home in Archidona on Thursday, October 22. I use “moved in” loosely as to date the only furniture in the home is my mattress on the ground and a large plastic table that is currently used as the office table. I am hoping to get all of my furniture and (cross your fingers as I have been waiting over a week) a fridge soon.

I jumped right into the action on Thursday and got a tour with a number of técnicos (there are 8 técnicos or technical coordinators in my province, and theyare each assigned a sector and then work within that sector providing technical assistance to local communities) of viveros (nurseries) throughout the province. The interesting thing about Guayusa is that it does not have seeds. In order to grow more, you simply take a cutting and place it in the ground in a shady area. The técnicos have found that Guayusa is most successful when plantings are taken and then placed ina nursery like this:

I was given a tour of numerous viveros throughout the province, and what I found really cool is that because our budget is pretty tight right now, people have been super innovative. Instead of using the expensive tools, wood and cloth used to provide shade, communities are using the materials they have on hand. At this point, I suppose I should give some background on what we do for every vivero. Guayusa needs shade, so first four supports and numerous crossbeams are needed to construct some sort of shade-bearing materials. We also create plant beds to elevate the Guayusa. For the supports and cross beams, bamboo is used, palm leaves are used to provide shade, vines are used to hold the bamboo beams in place, and old fallen trees are used to create the plant beds. It was interesting to see what communities are doing, as well as to see different communities.

After the tours of the viveros we picked up our moto bikes, and Thursday night my boss and I had dinner at a great pizzeria in Tena run by a German guy (first we were stopped at a police checkpoint and held for several minutes because our license plate was faded and my boss didn’t have his license, luckily we were let go). After our meal, we were given free shots. I’ve decided that I am going to make Pizzeria Vagabondo my new regular place, even if it does require a 30 minute bus ride to get there. We rounded out our Thursday night sleeping on the bare floor of my new home, as we did not have any mattresses (thanks to the cops that held us up meaning we arrived at stores after closing time).

Friday was a big day, and it started with us picking up a técnico, Pedro, at 6:30 am. to head to one of his communities. It was an hour-long truck ride on dirt roads littered with massive boulders, up and down hills and over rickety bridges. I am surprised our old, beat up truck made it, but an hour later we were pulling into a community very deep in the jungle. This is by far my favorite community, as the women were the most outgoing indigenous women I met and the men made me feel comfortable. The plant beds were already established in this community, so we started pulling weeds from the beds, and soon various community members were producing their plant cuttings to plant. A pot of Guayusa tea and two mugs were passed around and after a speech by the community president, he began planting his cuttings, dunking them first in an organic fertilizer and then placing them in the divots someone had already created.

Each community member did this, and eventually we ran out of cuttings, so I went with my boss, the técnico and two community members to an old woman’s house who has a bunch of Guayusa trees to take some more cuttings. This woman took to calling me Guayusa Warmy, which means Guayusa Woman in Kichwa. She kept trying to convince me to enter the Guayusa Pageant in November (there is a big Guayusa festival coming up in November), despite the fact that a white girl from the U.S. can’t enter. After taking lots and lots of cuttings, we hung around the woman’s house while the group drank Chicha (I declined) and then we headed back to the vivero to continue planting. By the time we got back, attention was starting to wane and beer and Chicha was being consumed in copious amounts, I luckily was able to turn the Chicha down rather discreetly with a slight nod of the head. I worked hard with the woman calling me Guayusa Warmy, the president, and a few others to finish planting the cuttings, sweating profusely under the strong Ecuadorian sun. Once all the cuttings were planted, chipati leaves (a kind of palm leaves) were stuck into the ground to provide shade:

I was hoping we would be able to take off before lunch began as I have learned never to look forward to a meal in Ecuador. Instead, my boss, the técnico, the community president, and the coordinator of the project in the community and I were seated at the lone table and chicken foot soup was placed in front of us. You read that right: chicken foot soup. Luckily, my boss turned to me and said, “Chicken feet, definitely not my favorite”, and he didn’t eat the foot either. What I found so very ironic was that as I was eating this soup, a chicken was pecking at my foot (chickens are EVERYWHERE here). I thought I could handle the soup, but then a whole chicken carcass was placed in front of me, with some singed feathers still on it. I tried to eat what I could, but I truthfully couldn’t eat very much. I was hoping no one would call me out on it, but they did. I used the same excuse I have used since I arrived: “I am never really that hungry, I can’t eat this much food”, which is true, they eat massive amounts of food. Throughout the meal more Chicha was passed around, and my glass was filled with Guayusa tea time after time. At the end of the meal we were given a special treat: coca cola. I had been drinking so much water, Guayusa, and now coke that by the end of the afternoon I thought I was going to explode. I asked a woman if there was a bathroom nearby, and she laughed and said “Si, en el campo”, meaning, “Yeah, in the forest”. I decided to hold off as I thought we would be passing through a town soon, and because we were soon saying goodbye to community members and loading up the truck to head out.

Community members ended up piling into the back of the truck, and we were on our way, taking different routes to drop members off in their respective communities. As we were driving in the rickety truck on the bumpy roads, I started to reconsider my decision to not use “el campo”. To make matters worse, we didn’t return the way we had gone, and we did not pass through the community I was banking on finding a bathroom in. I turned to my boss and said “Next town we pass through, can we stop so I can find a bathroom?” 45 minutes later, we made it into a town, and to my embarrassment my boss asked Pedro, the técnico, if he knew of a bathroom in the area I could use. Pedro got out with me, and we went to the Police Station, but no one was there. Pedro then took me across the street, knocked on the door of an old woman’s home, and asked her if I could use the bathroom. So there I was, in this random woman’s home, with my coworker making conversation with this woman. It was a slightly mortifying experience and from now on, I will always choose “El campo”. Shortly after this incident, my boss pulled over to the side of a huge bridge so that he could jump from the bridge into one of the Amazon’s tributaries.

Finally, we were back in Tena, but our marathon day was not over, we had to buy stuff for the house. Pedro accompanied me throughout Tena as I bargained over the price of sheets, stovetops, large water bottle holders, etc. I was extremely grateful for his help, and really enjoyed his company. The day came to a close as the power throughout the town went out, giving me the perfect excuse to go to bed at 9:00 pm.

And, proof that I am alive and part Guayusa Warmy:

An Important Lesson Learned

I’ve been in Ecuador for three weeks now, and in that time I have learned a very important lesson: nothing in Ecuador is simple, even the smallest things can be an adventure. Proof of this is that as I was attempting to write this notably late post, all the power in the entire town went out, leaving me in a very, very dark rainforest (note to self: buy candles). The day before, the water went out. Apparently, both of these are relatively normal occurrences.

While you could say I had a slight idea of this lesson before, things became even clearer when I left Quito for the second time and went to Puyo, one of the provinces we work in, on Wednesday, October 14. We had an intellectual property conference on Thursday and Friday, and we wanted to get work done beforehand. Wednesday was a relatively normal workday, aside from the torrential downpours.

Adventure #1: My boss and I were planning on sleeping at the office (there are bedrooms above the office) so we had to buy mattresses. Buying a mattress in a torrential downpour is not the best of ideas. We quick ran into the store, picked out some mattresses, and then had to run to the truck and quickly shove the mattresses in.

Adventure #2: After the mattress adventure, we were meeting someone to get dinner. We were driving the company’s old, rundown truck through the flooded streets, unable to see because the rain was coming down in sheets.

Adventure #3: After dinner, we returned to the house/office to find that the roof leaked, and there were puddles as well as ruined documents everywhere.

Adventure #4: In an attempt to have a semi-normal end to my day, I tried to take a shower. I turned on the shower, knowing it would be cold, stepped in, got wet, and the shower died. I stood there trying to figure out what to do, then tried the shower again, and it turned on long enough for me to soap up before dying again. I stood there another 5 minutes, turned on the shower again, and it worked for another minute before dying. The following morning there was no water at all.

Adventure #5: Throughout the night I could hear the telltale fluttering of bats above me, but I kept telling myself, “They are not bats, they are not bats, they are not bats.” I have an irrational fear of bats, and they absolutely terrify me. The following morning when the locals from the team found out that we stayed there, they exclaimed, “You slept the night here?! Did the bats bother you?” Needless to say, I was not happy and totally freaked out.

Adventure #6: Talking with the kichwa members of the team, I was told I needed to learn kichwa, and that the only way to do so was to date a kichwa man. Many jokes ensued. Throughout the weekend many advances were made such as, “Why don’t you just come and live with us in our community”.

Adventure #7: After our night in the bathouse, we decide to stay in the free hostel provided from the conference. It was a step up from the bathouse in that there were no bats. They actually charge a cheaper rate as you go up each flight, as the rooms get trashier. I was 2^nd from the top.

Adventure #8: After a long day at the conference, and many hours spent after doing team planning, the key members of the Napo and Pastaza teams went to the karaoke bar right next to our office. When we found this out, we decided to join them for a beer. A beer turned into round after round after round of beers. I kept up quite well at first, downing my glass every time someone raised their glass and yelled “Laurita, Salud.”, and watching as it was refilled over and over again. After a couple of rounds however, I realized we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, and thus started pacing myself. Luckily, the other team members were to drunk to realize that when they yelled “Laurita, Salud” I was only lifting my glass to my lips. I will just say that Spanish becomes even more difficult to understand when the speakers are slurring and karaoke is blasting in the background. I will also say that I determined it was going to be difficult to be the one of the few girls on the team, and the only American girl.

Adventure #9: The big event of the weekend was an ayahuasca ceremony (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ayahuasca). Ayahuasca is an indigenous hallucinogenic, and by drinking just a little bit of it it is believed that you can sort out your life and future. My boss has been doing ayahuasca for years, and so was really excited about it. I had decided I would go to the ceremony, but did not want to drink ayahuasca as I didn’t want to be seeing things for 8 hours, and didn’t want to spend the night vomiting and with diarrhea (this is a normal occurrence, as part of the drug’s power is to clean your body). So around 8:00 we ventured out to the house of a shaman (a healer) for the ceremony. I didn’t really know what to expect, but was surprised when we arrived at a French man’s house just outside of the city, in the middle of the jungle, and walked to a dirt floor, palm thatch roof hut with waist-high sides of bamboo and a fire in the center. This is where we would be spending the night. Thanks to Steven, I immediately had fears of getting Chagas, as the one thing they tell you to avoid is staying in a “traditional” or palm-thatch hut (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chagas). We (6 of us including the shaman) got settled on our thin mattresses on top of a wood platform, and then the shaman told those taking ayahuasca what to expect. All but 2 were on the fence about taking it, and I can’t believe that everyone that was wary about doing it ended up doing it after the shaman described what would happen. A couple minutes later, everyone (but me) was drinking the ayahuasca, and the shaman was going around with a palm rattle, shaking it over our heads, and carrying ash and smoke from the fire around to each one of us. He then asked us to be silent for the rest of the night, as it was a time to reflect and let the plant guide you. Soon, people were throwing up and hustling to the pit toilet set up nearby. Early into the night, an all-out thunderstorm began, with thunder, rain (coming into the hut) and flashes of lightning momentarily lighting up the jungle. Eventually, I let the storm lull me to sleep, and woke up to the sound of chanting and a woman staring into the fire while the shaman performed a healing. It was pitch black, so I couldn’t really see anything, but it was certainly a surreal experience to hear thunder and rain in the background, while a shaman danced and chanted by a now dying fire. Not for the first time that night I thought ‘What the heck am I doing here”. A little while later, I was asked if I wanted a healing. I thought that no harm could come of it, and so I sat down on a small stool in front of the fire with the shaman behind me. Soon, he is telling me to lift up my shirt, and then I feel the palm thatch rattle on me as he is chanting, and I questioned once again what I was doing there. Then came the oil, which he smothered all over my back and hair before he made sucking noises (I assume sucking the bad spirit out of me). Then he turned me around and smothered the oil all over my chest before putting some in his mouth and SPITTING it all over my face. He followed that up by asking me if I was okay, that I seemed tense, and I wanted to say, “Of course I am tense, I was just spit all over, not knowing what was going to happen next, while in the middle of the jungle in the middle of a thunderstorm.” Instead, I nodded, thanked him for the healing, and then laid back down wishing I had a shower. The healings continued throughout the night, and I was in and out of sleep, hearing the rustling of those dealing with their hallucinations and the rumbling of now distant thunder. In the morning, those that had the ayahuasca shared their experiences; one girl went through all the pain and discomfort and didn’t actually see anything, while others had quite profound realizations. After a breakfast with the shaman and his wife, we headed back to the office to do some more work. Unfortunately, the shower still wasn’t functioning, so I was stuck with dunking my face and hair in the sink until I could take a proper shower later that evening.

Adventure #10: As if all that adventure wasn’t enough, we couldn’t go the easy way out and take a bus back from Puyo directly to Quito. Instead, we took a bus to a town called Latacunga, where we waited at a roundabout from some friend of a friend to pick us up and take us to his moto store. We bought 6 Enduras (motos made with Japanese parts but constructed in China) from this guy, and then piled back into his car. We assumed he was taking us to the bus stop, but when we passed the bus station and left town I became slightly nervous. He ended up taking us to the town over and dropping us off on a road where buses drive by frequently. Soon, we were loading onto the bus before it stopped completely, and were being thrown about the bus trying to find a seat as the bus jerked up a hill. I can tell you that more than one person laughed at the “gringita” (slang for white girl) tried to get down the aisle with her large backpack, bashing her head against the TV. It was quite the end to quite the weekend.

And now, a little something to keep you excited for my next post: the view outside my new bedroom window:

The Hot Water is Out in Quito

I had a preview of cold showers tonight. Hopefully the warmer outdoor temperatures in Archidona will make it slightly less miserable, otherwise, I will be the dirtiest girl in all of Ecuador by the end of the year.

And Then I Realized I was in Ecuador

I don’t think it really hit that I was in Ecuador until I was in a bus driving through the countryside on the way to Archidona, looking at towering mountains, huge trees and little huts. I have discovered that just a bus ride in Ecuador is an adventure: the bus is filled with loud Ecuadorian music, people are allowed to get on and off whenever attempting to sell you all sorts of food, you are supposed to hold on to your luggage, and on one of our trips, on the way up a curvy mountain, a truck ran into our bus and nearly flew off the road, only to have our bus take off two minutes later.

On Wednesday I went to Archidona to see my future home and meet with the team I will be working with. I think it is safe to say that I will certainly stick out in the small town I am living in; I may be the only American there! The town is beautiful, a small city in the middle of the rainforest with views of the mountains. My house is really nice as well, with the one setback being it lacks hot water. I am excited to get to Archidona (where I will be living) for good so that I can explore the town, find some favorite restaurants and stores, and meet some people.

I really jumped right into the action while in Archidona, as I met the team I will be working with, was dubbed ‘Laurita’, drank lots and lots of guayusa (that is the tea we are selling, and it is fabulous), learned all about planting techniques, and ate at a very authentic restaurant (a hut with a thatch roof, where you eat in the kitchen with flies, as one woman cooks and the other kills flies while you eat chicken that may as well still be alive). Suffice it to say, it was quite a welcome to the town.

On Thursday and Friday we (my boss and I) traveled to Puyo, another region the organization works in to meet the team there and to get an idea of what was going on. I met a lot of Quichua, the indigenous people we will be working with. I also got to go to a Quichua community for a meeting, and while I couldn’t understand most of it (it was in Kichwa) it was interesting to observe a way of life so very different from my own. I was lucky to dodge the drinking of Chicha, fermented corn and women’s spit (check it out here, under drinks: http://www.ecuadorexplorer.com/html/ecuador_food.html ). While I dodged the bullet for the time being, I feel me experiencing it is inevitable, as I have been invited to many communities to try it, and it is quite rude to turn it down. I have however, been told how to best battle getting sick from it, including lots of garlic and lime before drinking it.

Other notable moments from our short trip include experiencing a mini tremor, watching everyone’s expressions as the ground moved beneath our feet, being sung to in Kichwa, meeting with executive administrators of communities at the spur of the moment, finding a bus by walking into a “station” and having people yell at you about their destination cities, and trying my very best to flex my Spanish muscles.

This week it looks like I will be going back out to Archidona for Tuesday and Wednesday then to Puyo Thursday-Saturday, then back to Quito, and then to Archidona for good.

My Second Day of Work

Again, I spent the morning reading many, many articles, then jumped on the back of the motorcyle to run errands, this time carrying a huge briefcase full of camera equipment. It's a good thing I was a gymnastics prodigy and have good balance. I also went shopping for motorcycles/dirtbikes for our teams in the rainforest, but we are still deciding between Japanese and Chinese models.

Tomorrow I will be heading to Tena, and then to Puyo on Thursday. They are both rainforest communities, and where our teams are located. I am excited to see the communities I will be working in. I'll be moving to Archidona (a small town 15 minutes north of Tena) next weekend, and am looking forward to settling into a new "home".

Who knows what day three of work will bring...

My First Day of Work

After spending many hours reviewing business plans in both Spanish and English, I hopped on the back of a motorcycle and sped through the crazy Quito traffic in the midst of a rainstorm (good thing I had my raincoat and rainpants) and went to two separate business meetings. I don't think many interns can say they did that on their first day of work. I also don't think there could be a more appropriate introduction to Quito, Ecuador.

Made it!

It is 8:30 in the evening and I am sitting the the living room of my place in Quito, looking out at the city lights. So far, so good.