Thanksgiving at the Beach

Thanksgiving is without doubt my favorite holiday, so as you can imagine I was pretty bummed that I wasn’t going to be home in snowy Montana to celebrate with my family.  I had my Thanksgiving dinner with my Portland friends before I left, but I still just couldn’t help but think about missing the actual holiday.  However, rather than mope around Cotacachi completely by myself, a group of friends and I decided that the far better option would be to head toward the warm weather and roll around in the sand for a few days.  And so we did.

My friends Kayla, Taylor, and Sam are all in Ecuador doing study abroad internships at the moment, and Sam just so happens to be living with the mayor of Otavalo.  This turns out to be a major bonus when wanting to head to the beach, because all the government officials have private time-share style beach accommodations.  YES.  Sam’s host mom set up everything.  All we had to do was deposit 50 bucks in a random guy’s bank account, hop on a bus out of Ibarra, and get ourselves to a bus stop in the North where we would call a guy named Ramon to pick us up and take us to the cottage.   Ok, so it sounds a little sketchy, and I’ll admit, we were a little bit sketched out by the sound of it, but we figured if the mayor’s wife was setting everything up, it was probably pretty legit.  

On the morning of Thanksgiving we began our departure from the mountains toward the coast.  It was supposed to be an easy day of traveling mixed with a session of lying on the beach.  Sam’s host mom said the bus ride would be about two and half hours.  Being that we’re now on Ecuador time this of course turned into about four and half.  As the bus got further North, I entered into a completely different world.  I had previously thought that the condition of the Indigenous villages around Cotacachi had been rough, but they were nothing compared to the shanty towns strewn along the road toward San Lorenzo.   The houses were no longer made of concrete and brick, but of crumbling wood with numerous gaps in the walls and floor.  Most of the shacks were on stilts that looked like they could give way at any second. 

The area was populated by escaped slaves who were brought from Africa during the times of European colonization, but as privatization of the land has increased in modern times, they no longer have land to live on, and thus are living off the side of the road.  It is half heart-breaking and half inspiring.  Something that continues to amaze me as I spend more time in this crazy place is the level of survival and adaptation of the people.  The people living along the North Coast of Ecuador have survived the slave camps in Africa, the ship ride to a foreign land, and the horrendous conditions under which they were forced to live.  They now continue to survive under conditions of immense poverty and hardship, and they still wear smiles on their faces, and find a way to make life work… and I bitch about my car breaking down or the heat going out in my house.  I’ll have to work on that.

After finally arriving in San Lorenzo we discovered that we had to take another two hour bus ride to get to the place where Ramon would pick us up.  We were a bit frustrated at this point, and definitely wanting to get to our destination.  There was also about a 50/50 chance that we were headed straight toward the Northern Colombian border which is a definite no no for four blonde American kids a couple hours from dark.  Thankfully we finally came to a town that we knew was southwest of San Lorenzo, away from the border and toward slightly safer areas.  We arrived at our destination safe and sound and with all of our belongings, and were greeted by Ramon.  He loaded us into the back of his truck and we headed to the house to be greeted by his three sons, Ramoncito, Ramoncito 2, and Carlos, and his wife Mary, who he referred to as what basically translates to “Little Blacky”.  

The family was incredibly humble and hospitable.  We had our own separate building of rooms, and three amazing meals per day of fresh lobster, prawns, fish, and whatever other culinary masterpieces Mary cooked up for us.  In the mornings we got bowls of fresh fruit, and ate about a watermelon each in addition to that for snack time.  The house was literally on a private beach, but because it was a “virgin beach” we couldn’t swim in the water that was apparently heavily populated with manta rays.

   

So, I got my couple days of paradise before heading back to the mountains.  I haven’t made a final decision yet, but if nothing else comes up, I’m headed toward the western waves after I spend a few days with the study abroad crew in Quito…where I’m going to see Harry Potter in theaters…in English.

Here’s the normal dose of pictures from the trip.  I wasn’t entirely sure that it was safe to take out my camera in San Lorenzo and the other places that we visited other than the beach, but moreover, I just couldn’t bring myself to flash my fancy things to people who were living on so little.  So, I have pictures of the beach and the house, but not a lot else.  Hope you enjoy.  

 The fishing boat at daybreak.

 This is my ``I´m so happy to be in the waves, but so terrified that a ray is going to sting me`` stance.

 Breakfast. Fresh caught lobster.

 It´s not Thanksgiving without a couple awkward family photos!

 Saying goodbye to the beach- sorry for the crooked photo...

Ending La Calera

A combination of downtime and some sort of food sickness has forced me to relax for a couple days, and given me some time to do some updating.  I gotta say, I’d rather you all stay uninformed and be running around with my head cut off than have whatever has situated itself in my stomach, but such is life. 

My time in La Calera is officially done.  I’m going to go back to visit my host family and my students when my mom comes to visit, but other than that, I’m moving on. 

I feel as though now that I am no longer living in the community, I can divulge a few details that I kept suppressed to keep the worrying of friends and family to a minimum.  After arriving in the village, I found out that it has been labeled a “Red Zone” by the government due to gang activity, sexual assault, robbery, etc.  The people who live in the village claim that it is a perfectly safe place, and that the only reason this label exists is because whenever something bad happens in any Indigenous village around the area, La Calera is always blamed.  I wasn’t quite sure what to think about this statement.  Granted, there are far worse-off villages in the area, but after hearing about the danger from numerous people, I started to feel a little bit concerned that the lock on my door was the push kind that people put on bathrooms, and that just about every male in the community had seen where I lived and slept.  My unease increased a little more when a taxi driver was decapitated in one of the nearby villages simply for the money he had.  I hate to admit it, but I definitely got a little more paranoid every time that I heard noises in the night.  However, this being said, I must also relate that outside a few cat calls here and there (which I receive on a daily basis due to the nature of my hair color no matter where I am in this country), I never ran into any problems whatsoever with the people of La Calera.  They were nothing but friendly and helpful, and appreciative of my presence.  So who knows, maybe all the bad stuff does happen elsewhere, and the people of Calera are forced to take the brunt of it.

So, now I’m back in Cotacachi at the apartment for a few days trying to sort out my plans and my stomach.  It’s a little bit like a just stepped back into the U.S.  A part of me misses my way of life in La Calera, but another part of me really enjoys being able to walk down the street without fearing that an angry dog is going to attack (an everyday issue in the village for me).  You win some, you lose some I suppose.

A few pictures of my last days:

 Alison and her birthday cake.

 Making banana bread for the fam.

 The kids at Alison´s third birthday party.

 Quinoa drying

La Calera

So. Much. Rain...everyday.  I write to you all bundled up in my warm clothes because Ecuador decided it would go ahead and have freakish amounts of rain this November.  To all who advised me against bringing my puffy to save space in my pack- I am so, so glad I chose to maintain my stubornness and not listen.

I have now been living in the community of La Calera for about three weeks.  I lucked out with accommadations once again.  I´m pretty sure I´m living with one of the two wealthiest families in the community.  They dove into tourism the minute foreigners started flocking to Ecuador,  and have done generally well with it.  They also have a convenience store inside the front of their house, a  paper/school and office supply store, and sell vegetables at the market in Cotacachi.  I have my own private room in a seperate building from the main house, a private bathroom attached to my room, and three delicious meals everyday, although, as delicious as the food is, I´m pretty sick of soup, bread, potatoes, and rice.  I never thought I´d see the day when I wanted to turn down carbs, but it has arrived.  The mix of potatoes and noodles, potatoes and rice, or potatoes and everything is standard for every meal.  My host family is great, and does all they can to make me as comfortable as possible.  I am currently living with seven other people (more when groups of tourists come through), six of whom are female.

I split my days between teaching English classes at the school in the community and helping out at what is basically the community daycare.   The classes are going generally well.  As to be expected, there are plenty of little shits that don´t want to learn anything, and make a habit of being generally disruptive, but there are enough kids who really want to learn to make it worth it.  My fourth grade class always saves my mood.  They pay attention with only a few gentle reminders, and come to the room I hang out in to ask a million questions and beg me to teach their class.  As for the daycare- I think that the conditions would make every mother from the United States that I  know cringe.  They most definitely have a different standard of hygeine here, and independence is taught at a very early age, generally by necessity.  However, that being said, the kids get warm meals and a safe place to spend their days, which is much more than some would be getting otherwise.

So this has been my life, and will continue to be for about another week.  Afterward I´m moving on.  I´m pretty well on my own right now, as the people I arrived with headed to Peru, so improvisation is pretty key.  A couple of my farming options also fell through, so I´m strongly considering totally changing my plans and  heading to the coast to be a surf bum for a couple weeks until my mom and Georgia get here for Christmas.  I could use some sun.

 Quinoa fresh after harvest before the cleaning process.

 So much corn in my diet

 Right outside my room.

 Entrance to my room

 Gatitos

 Me and my "sisters", Sinai, 5 and Alison, 3

 The family chancho

 La Calera

 My room