I've gotten a total of 3.5 hours of teaching in, and man, some days I feel REALLY bad for the students that we “practice” teach on. For the most part, I think that the students like me just fine. They laugh at me a lot because of course I am constantly making a fool of myself, but I like to believe that they are LEARNING as well. One of my students, Henrry (yes, to r's), seems to have really taken a liking to me. He is somewhere around 40 years old (he refuses to tell me his age), and he is SUPER tall, and SUPER gangly – something very rare in Ecuador. He is about as hippie as they come. He has dread locks and a straggly beard, is constantly talking about the environment, and wore the same shirt for 4 of the 5 days that I saw him this week.
Henrry is FUNNY. For example. On Friday, the instructor that I was observing (when I'm not teaching, I'm observing and learning), had the students stand around in a circle. The lesson had been on request/favors, so he had the students stand in this circle, and they had to go around asking each other “ridiculous favors” and come up with “crazy excuses”. In addition, they weren't allowed to smile. The instructor is... a character. But hey, I got a good laugh out of it. The students were all asking favors like “Would you mind if I borrowed your elephant?” or “Could you lend me 1 million dollars?” When it got to Henrry, he thought about it for a minute, and then he goes, “Would you ehhhh-please, ehhhhhh- shave... me?” The other observers and I just about fell out of our seats laughing at him. What a guy.
The reason that I think Henrry has taken a special liking to me is because on Wednesday, he came into the class, and handed me a piece of paper. The day before, one of their class activities was to write a poem using some target vocabulary. Henrry had gone home after class and written me a poem:
“Beatyful red bird Teacher”
Allmost every day, when I weak up
Allmost allways late. I or we can see,
some times trough to the window
or some times closer a particuler
voluntier working.
I or We can see a cheerful and fun
hard working voluntier in our or their
community ecologic and small gardin.
It's wonderful. I or we don't know
if he knows that he is a confident
teacher for me or us.
Some times I feel than you are
that beauty red bird teaching me or us.
I feel realy good when you have a fun
teaching me or us.
Am I a good teacher? I'll let you be the judge...
In other news, the persian blinds in my room broke. My host sister, God only knows WHAT she was trying to do, over-pulled the string of something, and they wouldn't close. Now, there are three windows in my tiny room. Two small ones, and one large one that takes up an entire wall (a couple feet longer than a twin bed, to give you an idea). One of the small ones broke, which you would think is no big deal. Until I tell you that right outside every single one of my windows is a garage light. With the blinds open at night, I don't need my bedroom light on. So now, one is broken. They cover it up with a WHITE SHEET. Yes. THAT will solve the problem.
The next day, I came home from school, and ALL of the blinds were down in my room. My host mom decided to get them all repaired. So, they put up blankets to cover my windows. WHITE SHEETS. Are you kidding me? It was literally like sleeping with my bedroom light on. I am not exaggerating. Yes, I took sleeping pills. No, I'm not addicted to them, but Jesus, I can't sleep in these conditions! Thank GOD when I got home from school on Thursday the new blinds were up. Thursday night it was so dark in the room I couldn't see my hand in front of my face. They're getting the job done. And now I go into some sort of coma when I sleep, because my room is so dark. Or maybe I just can't tell if my eyes are closed? It's weird.
My host mom must be doing well in her pastry shop, because also on Thursday, we got a new car. YAY! Now I have a seat belt. Good thing I have a seat belt too, because we're leaving the plastic on the seats to “keep the car newer, longer”. If I wasn't buckled in, I would seriously go sliding from one side of the back seat to the other. Oh, and this car has air conditioning too, which is ALWAYS blasting, no matter what the temperature. Apparently, it's one of those give and take situations – I gave up being a comfortable temperature while riding in the car, and now I'm going to get hypothermia. But hey, at least I'll be buckled. That's another thing with having this new car. Apparently, we are invincible. Let's just say that if I know we're going somewhere in the car, I MAKE myself go to the bathroom first, otherwise I'd pee my pants because I'm so scared. Although, it wouldn't REALLY matter: the seats ARE covered in plastic.
Next week I'll start sending my resume to schools in Quito (ranging from English institutes, to Universities, to high schools) and looking at an apartment to live in. I'm going to live with a girl named Kristin, who is also in my program. She's the same age as me, and we get along well, so I don't think it will be a problem. Except that she really likes to dance? And well, we've seen how well dancing goes for me. Great. Looks like also next week I'll be looking for a place to take dancing lessons. Maybe I should trade one of my students: dancing for English. Probably not though – they already laugh at me enough.
Until next time,
The Beatyful red bird Teacher
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
White Girl Can't Dance
After being in Ecuador for two weeks, I found that I should probably do laundry while I still have a steady supply of clean clothes left. In Ecuador (and I found this in Mexico too), the most common way to do laundry, since most people don't have their own washers/dryers, is to drop off your clothes at the “lavandería”, and they do your laundry there. When you drop it off, they let you know what day you can come back and pick up your clothes, and this could range from 1 day to 1 week – hence dropping off my clothes while I still had a healthy supply left.
I went with my host sister to the lavandería to drop off my clothes. I assumed that it would be like Mexico, and all I had to do was give them my clothes, they would weight them, and we'd be good to go. Wrong. I set my bag of clothes on the counter, and the woman says something to me in Spanish (under pressure = incomprehensible language). I stood there like an idiot for a second, then then the woman opens up my bag and starts taking my clothes out one by one. Turns out that we have to count each item (X number of shirts, X number of socks, etc.). I don't know the words for clothes very well, so I was pretty useless and really embarrassed as I stood there and she's touching all of my dirty laundry. Before I go next time, I'm going to learn the words for all of the clothes that I have.
My clothes took 3 days to wash (must be the busy season?), and when I went to pick them up on Saturday morning, it turned into another embarrassing experience. I handed the woman my receipt, and then I paid her. I don't know if I got there in between a shift change or what, because the woman I paid put my money in the cash register, gave me my change, and left. Another woman opened up my bad and counted my clothes to make sure everything was there that I had dropped off, and then I walked out.
I was about halfway home, and all of a sudden, I hear “GRINGITA! GRINGITA!” (if you recall, that means “white girl”). I turned around a little confused, and assumed I left something on the counter. I WISH I left something on the counter. The woman from the lavandería came up to me and said that I hadn't paid. Ummmmm, what? I told her that yes, I did in fact pay, because now I have $1 coins that I didn't have before (note: they don't give you a receipt when you leave). I also explained that the woman in the blue shirt took my money and gave me my change. She said that no, the other woman said I didn't pay either. I don't know what to do, and she must have noticed my face was on FIRE and I was just about in tears because she patted my shoulder, told me not to worry, and walked away. Needless to say, I'm going to find a new lavandería.
Also on Saturday (Sunday family days have quickly turned into Saturday and Sunday family WEEKEND), there was a barbecue. Cousin Jorge was in town from New York. My host family made it sound like he was in town JUST to meet me, so I had no way of making up some excuse to get out of this family gathering. Around 1:00, cousin Jorge came and picked me, Lupe (host mom), and Pamela (host sister) up (we are currently car-less and Lupe doesn't know what to do with herself. Hopefully we'll be getting the new car [I hope it has seat belts in the backseat!!] on Tuesday, but this seems unlikely since we were supposed to get it Wednesday the 20th, and then again on Friday the 22nd) and we made our way to Aunt Cecilia's house (where I caught the fruit fly last Saturday). The food was AMAZING (so amazing that Grandma pulled a plastic bag out of her pocket and put the food she didn't eat into it to save for later. What?), and I was more awake and alert this time, so I actually had an enjoyable time. And now I know who everyone is since I seem to be spending every weekend with them (I wonder what I'll do when I move out of this house?!).
Around 7, to my surprise, I was invited to go to a movie by some cousins. The cousins that invited me are the ones that I spend the most time with, and I really like them. Salim is 28, Cristy is 25, and Samir is 22, so it's nice to spend time with Ecuadorians my own age instead of being the youngest one by 20 years.
There was a group of 8 of us going, including cousin Jorge, my host sister Pamela, my host mom's grandkids (ages 16 and 13), and cousin Carlitos (17). We were going to see Sherlock Holmes (I was hoping it was sub-titled and not dubbed). After going to three different movie theaters, we found that there were no tickets available. I have no idea how they knew this, because most of the time we just drove around in the parking lots and they were like “Shoot, full. Next theater!!”. The group (and by the group I mean everyone except me) was looking into other movies, and saw Paranormal Activity (OH GOD PLEASE NO!) was playing at 9:45. Thank GOD no one wanted to wait that long. Instead, they asked me if I liked bowling. “Yeah! Bowling is fun! But I'm really REALLY bad!” (NO. I hate bowling, and I'm actually the worst bowler on the planet.) Bowling it is. Turns out, I'm not as bad as I thought I was, because I won the game with a score of 107, and beat the second place person by 30 points. Now I look like a huge nerd (shout-out to the Fincutters and my mom who are bowlers – sorry, bowling just isn't my thing) and a liar because I told them I was bad.
After bowling we went to the discoteca aka dance club. GREAT. I was wearing jeans, a pink/green/blue/yellow striped t-shirt, and flats (not that I would have worn heels anyways). In Ecuador, this is NOT a proper going-to-a-dance-club outfit. Cristy was wearing a similar outfit though, so that made me feel better. On the car ride to the discoteca, they were asking me if I could dance. “No. I try, but I can't dance.” (NO. I don't even try because I have zero coordination, so instead of trying to dance and making a fool of myself, I just don't take it seriously and try to be funny. Shout-out to Travis and super-sober fun at Brother's and “blendin'”) Since I had previously told them I was bad at bowling, they said to me “Oh, you're bad at dancing like you're bad at bowling? Hahaha.” My response: No, I'm REALLY bad at dancing. Followed by a nervous laugh. If this conversation would have been in English, I would have said “Seriously. White girl can't dance.”
We arrive at the discoteca and it is PACKED. Now, this can work to my advantage, because when a place is packed, you can't REALLY dance, so I can USUALLY get away with just kind of bouncing up and down, moving my head a bit, you know, just keeping the beat. Not here. Everyone SOMEHOW makes enough space for everyone to do a little salsa dancing-with-the-stars kind of dancing. Salim, bless his soul, tried teaching me salsa, and it ended in convulsive laughter. (During my time here in Ecuador, I've often found myself thanking my mom and dad for my genes. Again – thanks Mom and Dad for being such coordinated people. I really appreciate it.) The songs – all Latina – are really catchy, and Salim kept asking me if I liked the music, and I actually did, but I found myself thinking “Can I request Lady Gaga? Miley Cyrus?”. They DID play Shakira's “She Wolf” (ahhh-ooooooo!), and I got REALLY excited, until it was the Spanish version. I sang along in English.
At one point, the dance floor got REALLY packed, and if I would have been in an English speaking environment, I would have said “The only way to dance is up!” and THROWN my arms up in the air. It's really unfortunate that I don't know how to make comments like this in Spanish, because I ended up keeping my arms at my sides. Around 1:30AM, I found myself hoping that the discoteca closed at 2AM. My feet were tired, I was exhausted and SWEATING, and I HAD to stop trying to move my hips. Thank the Lord it was. Maybe I'll take dancing lessons while I'm here. I mean, I can't go a full year looking like such an idiot.
Until next time,
White girl that can't dance.
I went with my host sister to the lavandería to drop off my clothes. I assumed that it would be like Mexico, and all I had to do was give them my clothes, they would weight them, and we'd be good to go. Wrong. I set my bag of clothes on the counter, and the woman says something to me in Spanish (under pressure = incomprehensible language). I stood there like an idiot for a second, then then the woman opens up my bag and starts taking my clothes out one by one. Turns out that we have to count each item (X number of shirts, X number of socks, etc.). I don't know the words for clothes very well, so I was pretty useless and really embarrassed as I stood there and she's touching all of my dirty laundry. Before I go next time, I'm going to learn the words for all of the clothes that I have.
My clothes took 3 days to wash (must be the busy season?), and when I went to pick them up on Saturday morning, it turned into another embarrassing experience. I handed the woman my receipt, and then I paid her. I don't know if I got there in between a shift change or what, because the woman I paid put my money in the cash register, gave me my change, and left. Another woman opened up my bad and counted my clothes to make sure everything was there that I had dropped off, and then I walked out.
I was about halfway home, and all of a sudden, I hear “GRINGITA! GRINGITA!” (if you recall, that means “white girl”). I turned around a little confused, and assumed I left something on the counter. I WISH I left something on the counter. The woman from the lavandería came up to me and said that I hadn't paid. Ummmmm, what? I told her that yes, I did in fact pay, because now I have $1 coins that I didn't have before (note: they don't give you a receipt when you leave). I also explained that the woman in the blue shirt took my money and gave me my change. She said that no, the other woman said I didn't pay either. I don't know what to do, and she must have noticed my face was on FIRE and I was just about in tears because she patted my shoulder, told me not to worry, and walked away. Needless to say, I'm going to find a new lavandería.
Also on Saturday (Sunday family days have quickly turned into Saturday and Sunday family WEEKEND), there was a barbecue. Cousin Jorge was in town from New York. My host family made it sound like he was in town JUST to meet me, so I had no way of making up some excuse to get out of this family gathering. Around 1:00, cousin Jorge came and picked me, Lupe (host mom), and Pamela (host sister) up (we are currently car-less and Lupe doesn't know what to do with herself. Hopefully we'll be getting the new car [I hope it has seat belts in the backseat!!] on Tuesday, but this seems unlikely since we were supposed to get it Wednesday the 20th, and then again on Friday the 22nd) and we made our way to Aunt Cecilia's house (where I caught the fruit fly last Saturday). The food was AMAZING (so amazing that Grandma pulled a plastic bag out of her pocket and put the food she didn't eat into it to save for later. What?), and I was more awake and alert this time, so I actually had an enjoyable time. And now I know who everyone is since I seem to be spending every weekend with them (I wonder what I'll do when I move out of this house?!).
Around 7, to my surprise, I was invited to go to a movie by some cousins. The cousins that invited me are the ones that I spend the most time with, and I really like them. Salim is 28, Cristy is 25, and Samir is 22, so it's nice to spend time with Ecuadorians my own age instead of being the youngest one by 20 years.
There was a group of 8 of us going, including cousin Jorge, my host sister Pamela, my host mom's grandkids (ages 16 and 13), and cousin Carlitos (17). We were going to see Sherlock Holmes (I was hoping it was sub-titled and not dubbed). After going to three different movie theaters, we found that there were no tickets available. I have no idea how they knew this, because most of the time we just drove around in the parking lots and they were like “Shoot, full. Next theater!!”. The group (and by the group I mean everyone except me) was looking into other movies, and saw Paranormal Activity (OH GOD PLEASE NO!) was playing at 9:45. Thank GOD no one wanted to wait that long. Instead, they asked me if I liked bowling. “Yeah! Bowling is fun! But I'm really REALLY bad!” (NO. I hate bowling, and I'm actually the worst bowler on the planet.) Bowling it is. Turns out, I'm not as bad as I thought I was, because I won the game with a score of 107, and beat the second place person by 30 points. Now I look like a huge nerd (shout-out to the Fincutters and my mom who are bowlers – sorry, bowling just isn't my thing) and a liar because I told them I was bad.
After bowling we went to the discoteca aka dance club. GREAT. I was wearing jeans, a pink/green/blue/yellow striped t-shirt, and flats (not that I would have worn heels anyways). In Ecuador, this is NOT a proper going-to-a-dance-club outfit. Cristy was wearing a similar outfit though, so that made me feel better. On the car ride to the discoteca, they were asking me if I could dance. “No. I try, but I can't dance.” (NO. I don't even try because I have zero coordination, so instead of trying to dance and making a fool of myself, I just don't take it seriously and try to be funny. Shout-out to Travis and super-sober fun at Brother's and “blendin'”) Since I had previously told them I was bad at bowling, they said to me “Oh, you're bad at dancing like you're bad at bowling? Hahaha.” My response: No, I'm REALLY bad at dancing. Followed by a nervous laugh. If this conversation would have been in English, I would have said “Seriously. White girl can't dance.”
We arrive at the discoteca and it is PACKED. Now, this can work to my advantage, because when a place is packed, you can't REALLY dance, so I can USUALLY get away with just kind of bouncing up and down, moving my head a bit, you know, just keeping the beat. Not here. Everyone SOMEHOW makes enough space for everyone to do a little salsa dancing-with-the-stars kind of dancing. Salim, bless his soul, tried teaching me salsa, and it ended in convulsive laughter. (During my time here in Ecuador, I've often found myself thanking my mom and dad for my genes. Again – thanks Mom and Dad for being such coordinated people. I really appreciate it.) The songs – all Latina – are really catchy, and Salim kept asking me if I liked the music, and I actually did, but I found myself thinking “Can I request Lady Gaga? Miley Cyrus?”. They DID play Shakira's “She Wolf” (ahhh-ooooooo!), and I got REALLY excited, until it was the Spanish version. I sang along in English.
At one point, the dance floor got REALLY packed, and if I would have been in an English speaking environment, I would have said “The only way to dance is up!” and THROWN my arms up in the air. It's really unfortunate that I don't know how to make comments like this in Spanish, because I ended up keeping my arms at my sides. Around 1:30AM, I found myself hoping that the discoteca closed at 2AM. My feet were tired, I was exhausted and SWEATING, and I HAD to stop trying to move my hips. Thank the Lord it was. Maybe I'll take dancing lessons while I'm here. I mean, I can't go a full year looking like such an idiot.
Until next time,
White girl that can't dance.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
“What is your name?” -“S-S-S-Sara?”
Sunday is family day. My first family day was a bit overwhelming, as you may recall, traveling all over Quito, but mostly sitting in the car with Grandma. My second family day, however, was very exciting.
The day started with church (we went to a different church with a disturbingly massive Jesus Christ hanging from the ceiling positioned like Superman when he takes off into flight) and lunch with some aunts and cousins and Grandma, of course. After lunch, I was very excited to learn that we were going to travel to the Centro Historico (historic downtown) for the afternoon. We were going to be returning to Aunt Mary Elena's house after our little excursion, so I assumed that Grandma would stay at the house. No. Grandma was in tow. I was a little curious as to how she was going to get around downtown, as slow as she moves, but my curiosity was quickly satisfied.
On our way to the Centro Historico, we made a stop at a little place called Panecillo. I'm not quite sure what the significance of this place was, but I got to climb up a statue thing and have a beautiful view of all of Quito. Aunt Rosita came along and acted as my tour guide (which I was especially happy about since my host mother told me that she didn't know anything about anything). When we arrived at Panecillo, I jumped out of the car, as did everyone else. Everyone except Grandma. She sat in the car. For 45 minutes. Isn't that illegal in most states? Not Ecuador!
Our next stop was downtown. To give a brief description of the roads: the two way streets are as wide as an American one way street; the one way streets are as wide as an American sidewalk; and the sidewalks are as wide as an American gutter. As Lupe (my host mother) is WHIPPING around the streets trying to get downtown, everyone is yelling different directions at her (NO LEFT!!! NO YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE RIGHT!!!!!!!!! TURNTURNTURNNOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!), and I am feeling very, very ill. ESPECIALLY because Quito is in the mountains, so at points I thought we were about to drive off a CLIFF, and at other times I am thinking that the car isn't going to make it up the mountain that it has to climb. I thought last Sunday was bad... This was much worse! And, to put the icing on the cake, in Quito we are going through a drought. The power is all hydraulic, and the reservoir is getting low, so they turn off the power to small parts of the city at a time. The power was out in the Centro Historico while we were driving. Do you know what that means? NO STOPLIGHTS. Horns were blaring, fingers were waving, and I was about crying. Very traumatizing.
We made it to the Centro (alive, praise Jesus positioned like Superman), and again, all hopped out of the car. Gram stayed in the front seat. This time, for an HOUR. I was so worried about her the whole time we were out! Serious jail time can be served for stuff like that in the US! I really enjoyed seeing the historic downtown, and I think that my host sister and I are going to return this weekend so that I can go into the President's Palace and some of the famous churches.
After an eventful Sunday, I started my TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) course on Monday. It is going to be a very intense four weeks, but I am really enjoying it so far. On Tuesday, we were able to meet the students that we will be practice teaching on (poor things!!), and on Wednesday, we taught our first lessons. Tuesday, when we met the students, we were observing how the class is taught. The lesson that we were observing was about using adjectives to describe people. The students had to describe someone else in the class (in secret), and then someone else had to guess who was being described. My initial thought was: Huh. I wonder how this is going to go – everyone has black hair and brown eyes.
When everyone was done writing their descriptions, the teacher switched them around and said “OK! Find who the paper is describing!!” I was sitting there, minding my own business, kind of daydreaming, and what do you know. Some guy walked up to ME. Now, as a side note, this was not the assignment. I am NOT a member of the class, so this was NOT what I was expecting. I immediately start sweating and can feel that my face is on fire. I look a this guy, Gandy (pronounced Ghandi), and he says “What is your name? You are who I need.” JESUS. I don't know why I doubted that his description was in fact of me – I was the only blonde in the room – but I read it anyways: “The person who I am describing has blonde hair, green eyes, and is very, very tall. She is wearing a pink and white striped shirt and jeans.” I respond “S-S-S-Sara?” (because I don't know my name? Smooth...), and he smiles, writes it down (probably thinking “OH MY GOD THIS GIRL IS GOING TO BE MY TEACHER?!?!”), and walks back to his seat. Meanwhile, the other people in my course, who are also observing, are LAUGHING and laughing. Great.
At the break, the other observers and I all congregate and discuss the unpleasant event that just occurred. We're trying to figure out who would have written about ME, and someone makes the comment that they did in fact notice several of the students staring at me. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for giving me the blonde hair that makes me stand out so much in South American countries. I've never appreciated it more... A few minutes later, Justin, the teacher, came up to me and said, “Sorry to put you on the spot like that, but I was the one who described you (Well I didn't see THAT ONE coming). A student came in late and didn't have the chance to describe anyone, so I described you because, well, let's be honest, you're easy to pick out of the crowd.” THANKS. Later, during another activity, Gandy (the guy who had my description), asked me if I wanted to climb a mountain with him this weekend. Do I LOOK like I want to climb a mountain? If he saw how I almost die every morning on my way to school walking uphill the whole way, I'm sure that he wouldn't have asked me. Needless to say, I declined his invitation as politely as I could.
On Wednesday, after three days of my teaching course, I became a teacher! I only taught a half hour lesson, but I was a teacher none the less. I taught about vocabulary about being sick/going to the doctor, and my lesson was well-received by the students. It included a game of charades (which they didn't know what it was, so I had to act it out... Yes, they laughed at me.), and then role play in which one person was a doctor, and the other was the patient who had to describe their symptoms. Overall, it was a good lesson, and I am excited to be able to continue learning and teaching.
Until next time,
S-S-S-Sara?
The day started with church (we went to a different church with a disturbingly massive Jesus Christ hanging from the ceiling positioned like Superman when he takes off into flight) and lunch with some aunts and cousins and Grandma, of course. After lunch, I was very excited to learn that we were going to travel to the Centro Historico (historic downtown) for the afternoon. We were going to be returning to Aunt Mary Elena's house after our little excursion, so I assumed that Grandma would stay at the house. No. Grandma was in tow. I was a little curious as to how she was going to get around downtown, as slow as she moves, but my curiosity was quickly satisfied.
On our way to the Centro Historico, we made a stop at a little place called Panecillo. I'm not quite sure what the significance of this place was, but I got to climb up a statue thing and have a beautiful view of all of Quito. Aunt Rosita came along and acted as my tour guide (which I was especially happy about since my host mother told me that she didn't know anything about anything). When we arrived at Panecillo, I jumped out of the car, as did everyone else. Everyone except Grandma. She sat in the car. For 45 minutes. Isn't that illegal in most states? Not Ecuador!
Our next stop was downtown. To give a brief description of the roads: the two way streets are as wide as an American one way street; the one way streets are as wide as an American sidewalk; and the sidewalks are as wide as an American gutter. As Lupe (my host mother) is WHIPPING around the streets trying to get downtown, everyone is yelling different directions at her (NO LEFT!!! NO YOU SHOULD HAVE GONE RIGHT!!!!!!!!! TURNTURNTURNNOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!), and I am feeling very, very ill. ESPECIALLY because Quito is in the mountains, so at points I thought we were about to drive off a CLIFF, and at other times I am thinking that the car isn't going to make it up the mountain that it has to climb. I thought last Sunday was bad... This was much worse! And, to put the icing on the cake, in Quito we are going through a drought. The power is all hydraulic, and the reservoir is getting low, so they turn off the power to small parts of the city at a time. The power was out in the Centro Historico while we were driving. Do you know what that means? NO STOPLIGHTS. Horns were blaring, fingers were waving, and I was about crying. Very traumatizing.
We made it to the Centro (alive, praise Jesus positioned like Superman), and again, all hopped out of the car. Gram stayed in the front seat. This time, for an HOUR. I was so worried about her the whole time we were out! Serious jail time can be served for stuff like that in the US! I really enjoyed seeing the historic downtown, and I think that my host sister and I are going to return this weekend so that I can go into the President's Palace and some of the famous churches.
After an eventful Sunday, I started my TESOL (Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) course on Monday. It is going to be a very intense four weeks, but I am really enjoying it so far. On Tuesday, we were able to meet the students that we will be practice teaching on (poor things!!), and on Wednesday, we taught our first lessons. Tuesday, when we met the students, we were observing how the class is taught. The lesson that we were observing was about using adjectives to describe people. The students had to describe someone else in the class (in secret), and then someone else had to guess who was being described. My initial thought was: Huh. I wonder how this is going to go – everyone has black hair and brown eyes.
When everyone was done writing their descriptions, the teacher switched them around and said “OK! Find who the paper is describing!!” I was sitting there, minding my own business, kind of daydreaming, and what do you know. Some guy walked up to ME. Now, as a side note, this was not the assignment. I am NOT a member of the class, so this was NOT what I was expecting. I immediately start sweating and can feel that my face is on fire. I look a this guy, Gandy (pronounced Ghandi), and he says “What is your name? You are who I need.” JESUS. I don't know why I doubted that his description was in fact of me – I was the only blonde in the room – but I read it anyways: “The person who I am describing has blonde hair, green eyes, and is very, very tall. She is wearing a pink and white striped shirt and jeans.” I respond “S-S-S-Sara?” (because I don't know my name? Smooth...), and he smiles, writes it down (probably thinking “OH MY GOD THIS GIRL IS GOING TO BE MY TEACHER?!?!”), and walks back to his seat. Meanwhile, the other people in my course, who are also observing, are LAUGHING and laughing. Great.
At the break, the other observers and I all congregate and discuss the unpleasant event that just occurred. We're trying to figure out who would have written about ME, and someone makes the comment that they did in fact notice several of the students staring at me. Thanks, Mom and Dad, for giving me the blonde hair that makes me stand out so much in South American countries. I've never appreciated it more... A few minutes later, Justin, the teacher, came up to me and said, “Sorry to put you on the spot like that, but I was the one who described you (Well I didn't see THAT ONE coming). A student came in late and didn't have the chance to describe anyone, so I described you because, well, let's be honest, you're easy to pick out of the crowd.” THANKS. Later, during another activity, Gandy (the guy who had my description), asked me if I wanted to climb a mountain with him this weekend. Do I LOOK like I want to climb a mountain? If he saw how I almost die every morning on my way to school walking uphill the whole way, I'm sure that he wouldn't have asked me. Needless to say, I declined his invitation as politely as I could.
On Wednesday, after three days of my teaching course, I became a teacher! I only taught a half hour lesson, but I was a teacher none the less. I taught about vocabulary about being sick/going to the doctor, and my lesson was well-received by the students. It included a game of charades (which they didn't know what it was, so I had to act it out... Yes, they laughed at me.), and then role play in which one person was a doctor, and the other was the patient who had to describe their symptoms. Overall, it was a good lesson, and I am excited to be able to continue learning and teaching.
Until next time,
S-S-S-Sara?
Monday, January 18, 2010
Journey to the Center of the Earth: I went to the equator!
Yes, I got sunburnt. Yes, MOM, I put on sunscreen. Apparently I'm such a whitey that even 30 SPF does me no good in the direct rays of sun. Thanks Mom and Dad for giving me these genes.
A tourist hot-spot just north of Quito is called “La mitad del mundo”. In English: the middle of the world. Of course, I had to go. On Saturday, Dave, Kristin (the other two members of my program), and I decided to make the journey. And what a journey it was! We asked our Spanish teacher how to get there: a metro bus, a city bus, and a taxi. Yes, I was terrified. Especially because when I'm nervous, I can't understand OR speak in Spanish. Perfect.
After walking 10 blocks up to where I was meeting Dave and Kristin, I was already sweating. This walk is ENTIRELY uphill (for Madisonians, imagine walking up Bascom Hill for 10 blocks. This is what I did), and the sun was already pretty hot.
The metro bus ride was terrifying. It was PACKED (Madisonians: imagine taking the 80 on a rainy day. This was worse), and I COULD NOT MOVE. I squirmed my arm through the crowd so that thank GOD I had something to hold onto. Turns out this did not help much. My hands were really sweaty, so holding on to the bar did me no good. The buses drive SO FAST and turn SO sharply and stop SO suddenly, that I found myself being thrown around like a rag doll. Making it even more scary, I was right by the door. At one point, I would have gone OUT the door, but instead I collided with a man standing in front of me. I was being laughed at, and I myself was laughing really hard, because I felt like SUCH an idiot. One guy looked at me and said, “You've never been on the bus before?” Really? You couldn't tell? This bus ride was about 20 minutes. If I wouldn't have taken Dramamine, I would probably have passed out or something. It was horrible and HOT.
When we got to the next bus station we had no idea where to go. We must have looked really lost and out of place (go figure), because an old man told us what bus to get on. This bus ride was MUCH better because we got seats right away. After an hour ride, the bus driver stopped in what seemed to be the middle of no where and told us we had arrived.
We hopped off the bus, and stood in the middle of the streets like idiots for a couple minutes, and then I went and asked someone else what to do next. Another hot-spot near la mitad is this little town that was built in a volcanic crater called Pululahua. We wanted to see this crater, and a man told us that a truck would drive us there. Great! So we sat in the truck bed and went to see this little town. I was expecting to see an actual TOWN down there and Dave was expecting a lake. Turns out it has like 5 houses and a lot of crop fields. Kind of a let down, but it was really pretty none the less.
We finally made our way to la mitad, where we took tons of pictures and were very tourist-y putting each foot on either side of the Equator, taking pictures of the indigenous dancers, and staring at the menu for 15 minutes before finally putting our finger on something and telling the waiter we wanted it. Overall, a good trip.
I arrived home, and my host mom says “PERFECT TIMING!! We're going to my sister's house for a minute!” I went along, hoping that we would stay for an hour. An hour? What a joke.
Here's what the schedule looked like:
4:45PM – We arrive. Grandma is there. She greets me with “Sarita la altita!!” (Sara the tall girl. Thanks, Gram.).
5:00PM – I'm ready to leave.
7:00PM – My host mom's brother (Uncle Pato) and family arrive. Now I know we're in for the long haul. They start talking about the car accident that is the talk of the town (A pretty high-up politician's wife was driving, and she hit a girl and killed her. Big deal). Friday night, this accident was dissected at my host mom's son's house.
7:15PM – Grandma comments on my sunburned skin. They all tell me I need aloe, like it's my first sunburn. They believe that in Wisconsin, the sun doesn't exist and that it is -30 all year round.
7:25PM – We move to the dining room to drink tea and eat cheese and little pastries.
8:03PM – I think my watch battery died.
8:12PM – I realize it didn't.
8:28PM – Conversation goes back to the politician's wife who was in the car accident.
8:31PM – I notice a fruit fly flying around the table. Everyone else notices it too.
8:31PM-8:47PM – During this time everyone swatted at the fruit fly.... I was waiting patiently.
8:48PM – I CAUGHT the fruit fly with ONE hand on the FIRST try. They looked at me like I had just caught the stupid thing with chopsticks.
8:56PM – Everyone is STILL talking about how I caught the fruit fly.
9:05PM – It's only 9:00?? I feel like it's 1:00AM.
9:40PM – Uncle Pato says “It's almost 10:00?!?! Wow, how time flies!!! Let's go.” I see a shimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.
9:56PM – We're still sitting at the table. I'm about ready to scream.
10:05PM – Everyone gets up from the table.
10:13PM – We're still talking, but now in the foyer.
10:25PM – Someone opens the door. We all line up to leave. We have to go down a set of stairs to leave.
10:26PM – I make the grave mistake of letting Grandma cut in front of me in the line to leave.
10:37PM – I'm about ¾ way down the flight of stairs.
10:45PM – The talking has commenced OUTSIDE the car.
10:53PM – We finally, FINALLY, leave.
What a day.
A tourist hot-spot just north of Quito is called “La mitad del mundo”. In English: the middle of the world. Of course, I had to go. On Saturday, Dave, Kristin (the other two members of my program), and I decided to make the journey. And what a journey it was! We asked our Spanish teacher how to get there: a metro bus, a city bus, and a taxi. Yes, I was terrified. Especially because when I'm nervous, I can't understand OR speak in Spanish. Perfect.
After walking 10 blocks up to where I was meeting Dave and Kristin, I was already sweating. This walk is ENTIRELY uphill (for Madisonians, imagine walking up Bascom Hill for 10 blocks. This is what I did), and the sun was already pretty hot.
The metro bus ride was terrifying. It was PACKED (Madisonians: imagine taking the 80 on a rainy day. This was worse), and I COULD NOT MOVE. I squirmed my arm through the crowd so that thank GOD I had something to hold onto. Turns out this did not help much. My hands were really sweaty, so holding on to the bar did me no good. The buses drive SO FAST and turn SO sharply and stop SO suddenly, that I found myself being thrown around like a rag doll. Making it even more scary, I was right by the door. At one point, I would have gone OUT the door, but instead I collided with a man standing in front of me. I was being laughed at, and I myself was laughing really hard, because I felt like SUCH an idiot. One guy looked at me and said, “You've never been on the bus before?” Really? You couldn't tell? This bus ride was about 20 minutes. If I wouldn't have taken Dramamine, I would probably have passed out or something. It was horrible and HOT.
When we got to the next bus station we had no idea where to go. We must have looked really lost and out of place (go figure), because an old man told us what bus to get on. This bus ride was MUCH better because we got seats right away. After an hour ride, the bus driver stopped in what seemed to be the middle of no where and told us we had arrived.
We hopped off the bus, and stood in the middle of the streets like idiots for a couple minutes, and then I went and asked someone else what to do next. Another hot-spot near la mitad is this little town that was built in a volcanic crater called Pululahua. We wanted to see this crater, and a man told us that a truck would drive us there. Great! So we sat in the truck bed and went to see this little town. I was expecting to see an actual TOWN down there and Dave was expecting a lake. Turns out it has like 5 houses and a lot of crop fields. Kind of a let down, but it was really pretty none the less.
We finally made our way to la mitad, where we took tons of pictures and were very tourist-y putting each foot on either side of the Equator, taking pictures of the indigenous dancers, and staring at the menu for 15 minutes before finally putting our finger on something and telling the waiter we wanted it. Overall, a good trip.
I arrived home, and my host mom says “PERFECT TIMING!! We're going to my sister's house for a minute!” I went along, hoping that we would stay for an hour. An hour? What a joke.
Here's what the schedule looked like:
4:45PM – We arrive. Grandma is there. She greets me with “Sarita la altita!!” (Sara the tall girl. Thanks, Gram.).
5:00PM – I'm ready to leave.
7:00PM – My host mom's brother (Uncle Pato) and family arrive. Now I know we're in for the long haul. They start talking about the car accident that is the talk of the town (A pretty high-up politician's wife was driving, and she hit a girl and killed her. Big deal). Friday night, this accident was dissected at my host mom's son's house.
7:15PM – Grandma comments on my sunburned skin. They all tell me I need aloe, like it's my first sunburn. They believe that in Wisconsin, the sun doesn't exist and that it is -30 all year round.
7:25PM – We move to the dining room to drink tea and eat cheese and little pastries.
8:03PM – I think my watch battery died.
8:12PM – I realize it didn't.
8:28PM – Conversation goes back to the politician's wife who was in the car accident.
8:31PM – I notice a fruit fly flying around the table. Everyone else notices it too.
8:31PM-8:47PM – During this time everyone swatted at the fruit fly.... I was waiting patiently.
8:48PM – I CAUGHT the fruit fly with ONE hand on the FIRST try. They looked at me like I had just caught the stupid thing with chopsticks.
8:56PM – Everyone is STILL talking about how I caught the fruit fly.
9:05PM – It's only 9:00?? I feel like it's 1:00AM.
9:40PM – Uncle Pato says “It's almost 10:00?!?! Wow, how time flies!!! Let's go.” I see a shimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.
9:56PM – We're still sitting at the table. I'm about ready to scream.
10:05PM – Everyone gets up from the table.
10:13PM – We're still talking, but now in the foyer.
10:25PM – Someone opens the door. We all line up to leave. We have to go down a set of stairs to leave.
10:26PM – I make the grave mistake of letting Grandma cut in front of me in the line to leave.
10:37PM – I'm about ¾ way down the flight of stairs.
10:45PM – The talking has commenced OUTSIDE the car.
10:53PM – We finally, FINALLY, leave.
What a day.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Sarita la Gringita
The last few days have been an absolute whirlwind. I FINALLY arrived in Quito at about 2 AM on Sunday, January 10. After getting through migration and customs (which is oh-so-nerve-racking!), I found my host mom and sister holding a sign “BIENVENIDOS SARITA LA GRINGITA!” In English? WELCOME SARA THE WHITE GIRL! Thanks for making me feel even MORE out of place.
We CRAMMED my bags into their teeny tiny car and made way to their apartment. My host mom, Lupe, is a cook, and her daughter, Pamela, helps her out at her pastry shop. On my second day in Quito, I was already pleasantly surprised when I got home from class and had chocolate cake after lunch. Yes, I am enjoying my home-stay! Except for one thing. One of the first things that Lupe told me when I arrived was that hooray! We have hot water!! Well, they might have hot water, but I can't seem to find it. Every morning I am woken up with a COLD shower, but hey, at least I'm not wasting water because you'd better believe that I am in and out of there so fast!!
On Sunday, my first day in Quito, I went to church with Lupe and Pamela, and then for the rest of the day we ran around (and by ran I mean drove) the city visiting family, picking family up here, and dropping family off there. Driving in Quito, to put it bluntly, is TERRIFYING. And is there a seat belt in the backseat? No. I think I prayed more yesterday on all of our car trips than I have most of my life. And I love Jesus. I was excited when they told me that we were going to a restaurant for lunch, something we do every Sunday with the family (Grandma, aunts, cousins, etc.). Much to my disappointment, going to a restaurant meant going to the newly re-modeled mall. “Sarita! You can choose anything you like to eat!” Awesome. I had a cheeseburger that was RAW on the inside. Yes, Mom, I gagged (but I covered it up REALLY well), and I was suddenly full. That didn't go over well with Lupe, who was so concerned about me that she told Pamela to take the burger back and get a new one well-done. Needless to say, I still didn't eat it, and it was later eaten by Pamela and one of her cousins.
On another note about the mall, Lupe's mom, who I'm guessing is in her 80s, is getting old. She can't move around well. She uses a walker and is reallllyyyyyyy slow, which is absolutely fine (shout-out to my darling Grandma Ann who also uses a walker... I'm no hater), but whoever thought it would be a good idea to bring this poor woman to a MALL to eat lunch is an IDIOT. A lot of times, I was on grandma-duty sitting with her in the car when everyone else went into the 1. supermarket 2. hospital to visit an ill relative 3. great Aunt Rosita's house and 4. the pharmacy. Yes, Grandma and I bonded, and I can't even count how many times she told me that I was the tallest person she's ever seen (she comes up to ooooooh, my waist).
The first week that I am here I have afternoons free and Spanish classes in the morning. The Spanish classes are REALLY basic, so I'm pretty bored (note to my mother: 4½ years of college Spanish classes DID pay off). In the afternoons, Pamela usually carts me around here or there, which is fine, she's kind of funny, and she lets me make fun of her which is always nice.
Until next time,
Sara the white girl.
We CRAMMED my bags into their teeny tiny car and made way to their apartment. My host mom, Lupe, is a cook, and her daughter, Pamela, helps her out at her pastry shop. On my second day in Quito, I was already pleasantly surprised when I got home from class and had chocolate cake after lunch. Yes, I am enjoying my home-stay! Except for one thing. One of the first things that Lupe told me when I arrived was that hooray! We have hot water!! Well, they might have hot water, but I can't seem to find it. Every morning I am woken up with a COLD shower, but hey, at least I'm not wasting water because you'd better believe that I am in and out of there so fast!!
On Sunday, my first day in Quito, I went to church with Lupe and Pamela, and then for the rest of the day we ran around (and by ran I mean drove) the city visiting family, picking family up here, and dropping family off there. Driving in Quito, to put it bluntly, is TERRIFYING. And is there a seat belt in the backseat? No. I think I prayed more yesterday on all of our car trips than I have most of my life. And I love Jesus. I was excited when they told me that we were going to a restaurant for lunch, something we do every Sunday with the family (Grandma, aunts, cousins, etc.). Much to my disappointment, going to a restaurant meant going to the newly re-modeled mall. “Sarita! You can choose anything you like to eat!” Awesome. I had a cheeseburger that was RAW on the inside. Yes, Mom, I gagged (but I covered it up REALLY well), and I was suddenly full. That didn't go over well with Lupe, who was so concerned about me that she told Pamela to take the burger back and get a new one well-done. Needless to say, I still didn't eat it, and it was later eaten by Pamela and one of her cousins.
On another note about the mall, Lupe's mom, who I'm guessing is in her 80s, is getting old. She can't move around well. She uses a walker and is reallllyyyyyyy slow, which is absolutely fine (shout-out to my darling Grandma Ann who also uses a walker... I'm no hater), but whoever thought it would be a good idea to bring this poor woman to a MALL to eat lunch is an IDIOT. A lot of times, I was on grandma-duty sitting with her in the car when everyone else went into the 1. supermarket 2. hospital to visit an ill relative 3. great Aunt Rosita's house and 4. the pharmacy. Yes, Grandma and I bonded, and I can't even count how many times she told me that I was the tallest person she's ever seen (she comes up to ooooooh, my waist).
The first week that I am here I have afternoons free and Spanish classes in the morning. The Spanish classes are REALLY basic, so I'm pretty bored (note to my mother: 4½ years of college Spanish classes DID pay off). In the afternoons, Pamela usually carts me around here or there, which is fine, she's kind of funny, and she lets me make fun of her which is always nice.
Until next time,
Sara the white girl.
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