Still Goin' Strong

I'm not too sure if anyone is still checking this because I've been a little deliquent on the updates but I'm thinking the notorious ecua-phrase "Mejor tarde que nunca" (Better late than never) can come into play here.

Life in Ecuador is still chugging along. Since the third Ibarra volunteer had a "personal emergency" and had to take off, Kane and I have been teaching three classes per day instead of the standard two but we've made it work. Things with the host family have been going really well although I've recently been informed that I am not allowed to have the boyfriend over past 9 or 10 and I need to entertain him in the formal sitting room with the velvet couches. Life goes on, eh? My Spanish has gotten much better too. I'm planning to take some lessons in town once I get this new schedule under control. We have also started working on a new service project with the Ministry of Tourism to translate the city and province website, maps, and brochures into English so that North American and European guests feel more welcome and comfortable. Until we volunteered our services, they didnt have anyone working at the ministry with sufficient English skills to do the job professionally. I have also developed a new favorite food called fritada which is basically Ecua-stir fried chunks of pork in a savory spicy sauce with the usual trimmings of avocado, corn on the cob, and salad. Yum.

I've somehow made it through 5 months here; last weekend's mid-service marked the halfway point of my journey. We had our midway conference at the beautiful eco-lodge Alandaluz near Puerto Lopez. The resort was gorgeous, comfortable, and even the food was great but the best thing about the place was the whole resort was contructed from recyclable materials and produced no waste whatsoever (they even use biodegradable toilet paper) and thus it is deemed a self-sustainable eco-lodge. If you ever want a tranquil vacation on a private beach in basically the middle of nowhere with travelers from all over the world and the occasional surfer filming a documentary, Alandaluz is your best bet.

To make up for my shortcomings as a blogger, Ive included some pictures to fill you in on what I've been up to the past 2 months including mid-service, the surfing lessons in Montanita and a few of Mindo. Mindo which is an up and coming tourist attraction/ small village known for its beautiful butterfly farms, natural waterfalls, river tubing, and breathtaking orchids.
http://dartmouth.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021915&l=146a1&id=512844

I also made the much-needed trek back to the chi for X-mas and was so happy to be able to spend a week with my wonderful family. I then made a pit-stop in St. Louis for my friend Pete's wedding. Kane and Peter's whole fraternity was there and it was so good to reunite with the whole Dartmouth crew. You can check out pics here:
http://dartmouth.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2021013&l=6037d&id=512844

Today I am heading to Quito for a pre-Superbowl party with my fellow Chicagoan Bears supporters. Of course, I am bringing the chili. Tomorrow we are going to watch the game from one of the 5 Irish-pubs in the mariscal district and scream our heads off.

I wish you were all here to see my rendition of the 2007 superbowl shuffle.

Hasta Pronto,
Ally

!Dale Correa!

Yesterday evening the presidential election results were announced, making Raphael Correa the newest incoming Ecuadorian Chief of State (and Head of Government). Nearly everyone I know here in Ibarra is calmly pleased about the results; I can`t believe how remarkable anticlimatic today has been. The unofficial results came out around 4 pm and then the official results came out around 7. By 10, nothing remotely pertaining to the election was on any cable news channel, including CNN international. Does this seem strange to anyone else? When there is a presidential election in the states, the live coverage starts days before and never seems to end. The results are followed with official speeches, interviews, protests, etc. I just cant believe it. Nothing. Tranquility.

My mom called last night after she did a little internet research on Correa. She was not excited that I would be governed for 8 more months by a person with increasing ties to Venezuela's Hugo Chavez. Correa has been far from subtle about his anti-Bush sentiments. But this is exactly what they are....anti-Bush sentiments...and to a lesser degree anti-NAFTA sentiments. Not to be confused with anti-American sentiments. Even my very leftist Ecuadorian friends here are the first people to embrace Americans for their independent thinking and openmindedness. In fact, when compared with my experience living amongst the Barcelonians in Spain, I find Ecuadorians to be extremely pro-american. The average Ecuadorian has a great deal of respect for our country and many make it their dream to visit or live in the states. Ecuadorians, to a great degree, model their culture on American movies, culture, and fashion and most importantly covet our education system. My point here is that my mother should not be worried, at least not yet. The Reds have by no means invaded Ecuador so everyone can relax with the McCarthyism until further notice. The fact is that the United States and other first world countries use Ecuador as a cheap source of oil, labor, and food. With Correa now in power, hopefully he is going to make these things a little harder for the US to access, and life little easier for the average Ecuadorian citizen. Besides, Mom, Correa is an alum of the University of Illinois School of Economics. Go Illini!

PS- In case you were all still wondering, my host dad did not win the local election. Better luck next year.

What I am grateful for.

As Thanksgiving came and passed yesterday without much notice, I had time to reflect on past couple weeks here and my life in general. About twice a week I have my class do a journal entry to practice their written English and strengthen the theme of the week's lessons. Yesterday's theme was, "What are you most thankful for?"

The past few weeks I have getting into a serious routine here in Ibarra. I teach my morning class, prepare for the next day's lessons, go home for lunch to spend time with my family, teach my evening class, get home to eat a piece of bread and some tea for dinner (yuck), do my nightly activity (see below), sometimes watch some CNN or read a book, and go to bed. Mondays we are going to start taking salsa lessons, tuesday I watch nip/tuck (guilty pleasure), wednesdays I play squash with my students, thursday we go out to dinner with some other volunteer friends and friday I exercise, relax, and sometimes travel. 3 times a week I have also been tutoring and mentoring a group of about 10 kids at an organization called Fundacion Cristo de La Calle. It's a big house in the middle of downtown that takes in kids that have been abandoned, abused, or neglected by their parents or whose parents are in jail. Street children is a national crisis here in Ecaudor in every major city. CDLC works with the families to get their lives back on track and takes care of the kids during the day so the families can work, offering them lunch daily, psychology services, physical, verbal and emotional therapy, help with school and homework (this is where I come in), intellectual and physical stimulation, and most importantly a safe place to hang out until late at night. The kids who don't have any family live in one of a few houses with volunteers who do all the parental duties. The kids range from 4 to about 16 years of age. The place is almost completely privately funded because the government here is too corrupt to have money left over for social welfare projects such as this. Each day I am amazed at how open, friendly, caring, and smart the kids are and how accepting they are of me as an outsider with an American accent and pretty frequent speaking mistakes. Most havent been broken by life yet. These kids are normal good kids that have a great chance for a good life even though the circumstances they've been dealt are less than what we would consider normal. These kids are resilient.

Anyway, my life couldn't get much more routine than the aforementioned schedule. But somewhere in the midst of all of these daily experiences I become more and more grateful for what I have in the states: a wonderful and supportive family, freedom to be who I am without much concern for social norms, a first rate education, hot and more importantly clean water, and something other than bread and the occasional slice of bologna for dinner (which is what people eat here).

This week we have been doing a unit on dating in my classes. On Wednesday after class one of my favorite students came up to me and asked in nearly flawless English, " Ally, I need to talk to you. Let's suppose I was gay. I am not saying that I am, but if I was, can you tell me what my life would be like in san francisco?" He had clearly rehearsed the question before. He wanted to know if he could be open about his sexuality, if he could get married, if he could get a job while being open about his sexuality. I told him that not only does no one really care (especially in san fran), but that the US has laws against discrimination. He absolutely could not believe it could be true. Here in Ecuador homosexuality is not only unheard of, but extremely dangerous to a man (or woman`s) physical safety. It allegedly doesnt exist outside of Quito and maybe Guayaquil and even in these places, people need to be extremely discreet. But Wednesday proved that it does occur, it's just that people either move to a big city or even better out of the country, or they never come out. On Monday we watched part of an episode of Friends that included Ross's ex-wife who happens to be a lesbian. My students looked around at each other nerviously at the suggestion of homosexuality and some even snickered. This student is one of my best, both academically and in the sense that he is extremely caring, moral, fun, hardworking, and an all around good person. The look of sheer hope he had when I told him that he and a partner could possibly even adopt a baby will never be erased from my brain. He told me that one of his greates wishes is to be a father.

These are the joys of being a teacher. I am finding that I am not just teaching my students the English language, but teaching them about what the world has to offer, about what life could be like even someday here in Ecuador. I teach them about a place where girls can play basketball on saturday mornings at the public court right along with the boys and a place where you can meet the parents on a second or third date without worrying about getting married. About a place that at least strives to accept people for their difference instead of passively yet powerfully trying to force everyone into their predetermined place in the community. This place I speak of is my home and, cheesy as it sounds, it is times like these that I am proud to be an American.

Last night we went out for dinner at parrillada restaurant (like a cheap brazilian steakhouse), but the real celebration will be on Saturday at the program director's house. I'll be spending my day off today making garlic mashed potatoes and green bean casserole. While every year I complain to my mom about eating turkey, this year I find myself incredibly nostalgic for the stuff. I can't wait.

This Thanksgiving I am grateful to be here in Ecaudor so that once I get home I will never be able to forget the numerous blessings I have been given. This, if nothing else, is a powerful reason to spend a year in a developing country (or read a weekly blog about it). Happy Holidays to all!

Los Suegros and the Beach of Bliss

Last Thursday, November 17th, Kane and I boarded yet another overnight bus to join his parents in the coastal beach town of atacames. The Russells' were only visiting us for 8 days but they managed to travel through at least 3 ecosystems as Ecuador has the most diverse geography of any country in the world. The geography, climate and cultures of the mainland are divided almost exactly into 3 long strips that run from north to south. On the west coastal side of the country you have La Costa region which is known for its sweltering climate, more open-minded people, a "let it all hang out" vibe (both physically with the fupas and figuratively with the mentality), and the biggest city and port in Ecuador- Guayaquil. The Sierra region,where I live and also home to Ecuador's capital Quito, is known for being more traditional, politically aware, polite, and sometimes a little bit boring (it's all relative, folks). The Sierra is home to the cities of Ibarra, Ambato, Riobamba and Cuenca all the way down to Loja on the panamerican highway. The 3rd region is the oriente or rainforest region that is still home to some autonomous indigenous tribes and a good chunk of the world's virgin rain forest. You can take a whitewater rafting expedition or hang out a jungle lodge for some serious culture shock and a few big cat sitings. The 4th region, about a hundred miles off the coast, is the Galapagos Islands whose reputation for unparalleled wildlife usually precedes it.

Anyway, we decided to take his parents to a beach town to see a different side of Ecuador from the food to the entire attitude on life. Atacames in the high season is roughly the ecua equivalent of Cancun, although considerable less commercialized and remarkably cheaper. I guess the main similarity is that you can't be shy and you can't have a bad time in either place. The beaches can be a bit dirty, but the ceviche and shrimp are unbeatable, as are the dance clubs and warm ocean waves. A nice hotel with hot water will run you between 10 and 15 dollars a night and the added bonus is that you can walk across the street to a tiki hut bar with swings as the stools and drink a potent rum concoction for $3. But by far the best part of Atacames is the going mode of transportation that is so very ecua-typical. In an effort to cut down on the horrible diesel fumes that the buses and taxes produce in the rest of the country, atacames resolved to use rickshaws as its preferred means of transportation. It is super fun to be on a straw covered bench at 10 miles an hour on a superhighway with the wind in your face and the humid air on your skin. In fact it is so fun that you can almost imagine that the rickshaw you are riding in is being pedaled by its driver instead of powered by a motorcycle that gives off even worse fumes that the average taxi. Ahhh, the delights of ecuador life.

When I got back to Ibarra, my family was wondering when they would get to meet my suegros. "Suegros?", I asked, quite confused. Suegros is a term that is supposed to translate to in-laws so I wasnt so sure it should mean Kane's parents but I knew they couldnt mean anyone else. My family seems to be jumping the gun a bit on that one just like every other ecuadorian person over 30. They didnt even say "future suegros". This was not the first of the "subtle" hints directed at finding out when i plan on getting married. The middle-aged people here seem to be on the same time schedule as Leonard in thinking that life ends at 40. Maybe he should move to Ecuador. Cam would never be able to hack the cold showers.

More to come on my new volunteer project Cristo de La Calle....

Cuenca: the city of lost ruins and reservations

Since this blog wont let me upload pictures, please view pics of Quito at:
http://dartmouth.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2017932&l=4eb51&id=512844

The weekend after Otavalo, we made our way down south 13 hours to the cultural mecca and former northern inca capital city of Cuenca. The whole gang met up to visit the endless art galleries and cultural museums, listen to the live street music, appreciate the clean streets and colonial architecture, take in the mild climate, enjoy the artisan fairs along the river, and attend the city-wide festivities (such as wooden car racing) with the Ecuadorians. This happened to be the weekend of November 2nd, which is one of the busiest national vacation weekends in Ecuador and also happens to be Cuenca`s festival weekend. Since Kane and I weren`t sure until the last minute that we felt up to taking yet another perilous and uncomfortable overnight bus ride, we missed out on buying tickets for the only bus that went directly from Ibarra to Cuenca. Instead, we had to take our chances on a 3-hour bus to Quito where we would then try to change buses at the zoo-like terminal for an additional 10 hour ride. We knew the odds were against us, that we might not be able to find a bus, and that we might just end up having to come straight back to Ibarra so we packed for all climates and decided to spend the weekend in any city that we could procure a ticket to. On Wednesday night as we dissented from the mountains towards the terminal, our worst fears came true…we saw a terminal completely infested with swarming travelers, everyone desperate to gain passage on the already overcrowded buses. When we go off the bus into the shoulder-crammed terminal we saw that every one of the thirty some companies had posted a sign saying “no more tickets/seats tonight. Do NOT approach the window.” Feeling completely defeated, we heard some locals giving advice that the best bet was to approach the bus drivers directly to try to beg or bargain your way on. Kane and I split up and did exactly that. I literally camped out in front of a bus to Cuenca, put on my best puppy dog face and hoped for the best. Ecuadorian men, with few exceptions, think that American woman, especially blonds, are exotic, beautiful, aggressive, sexually liberated, and more than willing to jump in the sack with anyone who propositions them. Usually I do my best to reverse this stereotype but this was one time I wasn’t going to oppose a little harmless flirting. After a quick chat with the driver, he took pity on me and scoped the bus out for possible vacancies. When he finally convinced one lady with a small child to put the toddler on her lap for the whole trip so I could board, he came back with a smile to see Kane now standing behind me. “So you need 2 seats?”, he said, a little bit annoyed. Yes, we nodded. In the end he let us both board, but kane spent his 12-hour ride switching off between sitting in the aisle on an old, hard, slotted milk crate and laying in the aisle with his Dartmouth hooded sweatshirt pulled up over his head to shield him from stinky feet and the filth of public transportation that surrounded him.

We finally arrived, greeted our fellow volunteers with relief, called 2 hotels to confirm our reservation at each, and sought out to find a bed and bathroom to recuperate from the journey . I know it sounds shady that we had 2 reservations and confirmed them both twice, but in Ecuador the number 1 rule in running a business is “money is everything”. Take the money and run, nothing else matters as long as you get paid, money talks, etc. Rule number 2 for business is “fly by the seat of your pants”. After getting advice from our ecuadorian friends that hotels often conveniently “lose” people’s reservations if a paying customer with cash comes along first, we made 2 reservations and resolved to cancel the other one once we were safe in a room.

Turns out, in Ecuador, you better make 5 reservations if you want to stand a chance. The first hotel told us, “We thought you were with those gringos over there and so we don’t have any more rooms. It’s your fault for looking and sounding like the other gringos that are staying here. Bye. " (WHAT!!???!! You gotta be kidding me!!! We look and sound nothing like that pack of German boys over there!) The next hotel told us that they had given our reservation away the hour before because they assumed that since we were American we wouldn’t have cash and that they didn’t accept credit cards. ( What!!!??!?! Of course we have cash. We simply wanted to hold the room with a credit card to ensure that this wouldn’t happen! Big mistake even mentioning credit cards in ecuador since they are as useful outside quito and guayaquil as that instruction card in an deck full of aces and clubs.)

After the second hotel screwed us despite 2 confirmations and a 3 km outside the city to get to the place, and we knew we had almost no chance of finding a vacancy during a festival/holiday weekend, I just lost it and broke down crying. Kane, usually composed and logical, finally started yelling in rapid Spanish, “This is some mierda (shit)! You call this a business??!? (And best of all) Well, if you don’t have our room then you better start rolling out our cots because we plan on camping out right here on your front lawn since there are no rooms in this entire city." Finally the owner, who had sent his employee out to do his dirty work and tell us the bad news, came out of hiding, offered us a coffee, begged kane to calm down and me to stop my hysterics, and told us in an hour or two he could clean one of the rooms in his own house so we could stay there. We said fine, to call us when it was ready but headed back to the downtown district to try our luck with more run-down hostals not listed in Lonely Planet or the Let's Go guide.

By the grace of god, there was one savvy businesswoman is all of cuenca who followed up on our desperate inquiry. We had left a phone number with her in case of a cancellation after hotel number 1 fell through. And, she actually called us. Finally, after a really rocky start, we had a place to shower and sleep for the remaining 4 days in cuenca.

The rest of the trip was fun, informative and relatively smooth. We shopped for panama hats (the local misnomered specialty in cuenca that go for around $20 here but could fetch a price of $200 to $1,000 in the states), saw an archeological museum with incan ruins and shrunken heads, had a few laughs with fellow volunteers, danced in the streets, had a hot shower and a even got some real coffee. (Despite Ecuador's proximity to Columbian coffee plantations, the entire population is more than content to drink Nestle instant coffee. This is extremely telling of south american exports. Each south american country exports the "cream of the crop" in any given industry to Europe or North American and distributes the leftover product not fit for export to its own population. The same is true of chocolate. A Nestle bar in the US is of far superior quality compared to the ones they distribute here in ecuador. The ecua varieties contain toxicities that in large doses cause brain damage to children. I would assume the same is true of the banana industry. Don't even get me started of the health effects of the commercial flower/rose market. I'll save it for another entry.) Anyway, while I am happy to have experienced the city deemed “the pride and joy” of Ecuador, I have to say that on Sunday afternoon I was pretty happy to be back in Ibarra. We might not have coffeehouses or art museums but my family sure does know how to save my room for me. They usually even turn down the bed.

Otavalo: At Your Service

So sorry it's been awhile since I've written. We've been pretty busy with trips the past few weekends, the gracious visit of Kane's parents, and law school applications. I'll try to fill you in on the happenings with the abridged version. The last week in October we spent the weekend in the town of Otavalo, perusing the internationally revered artisan market, and catching up with some volunteer friends from Quito who made the trip up north to hang out. Otavalo is a small but lively city about 40 minutes south of Ibarra that has become a likely backpacker's stop on any south american journey. The indigenous residents of otavalo have experienced unprecedented prosperity because they were one of few indigenous groups successful at marketing their culture on an international scale. When you go to those craft fairs at the rosemont horizon or at Septemberfest or in any major US city, there is undoubtedly a booth stocked full of otavaleño crafts and andean music. You've probably heard the signature flutes, harps, and drums. Anyway, only in about the past 10 years have indigenous Ecuadorians been granted all the rights of regular Ecuadorian citizens. But with the indigenous movement, they were also granted privileges that the regular citizens did not have, including more relaxed visa regulations and ease of entry into the U.S. to travel. Now they go to sell their ponchos, hammocks, woven linens, jewelry, and andean music CDS, and they bring back crates of American merchandise like gap and forever 21 clothes, which fetch a considerable profit here. (Needless to say I'll be stocking up on H&M at Christmas.) In this manner indigenous otavaleños have been able to gain some wealth and a lot of power and have even broken into the political scene here. Otavalo is one of few Ecuadorian cities to have an indigenous mayor. Saturday is market day and we really did shop 'til we dropped. I had to have my friend Mike come along because Kane just couldn’t hang. The other boys decided to go drink beer and play checkers with the 70-year old men that you can find in the hole-in-the-wall joint on every corner. The whole experience was pretty great except that we must have searched through over 300 booths of crafts where each and every vendor literally runs up to you saying "a la orden" or "at your service". I mean, come on, could over 300 vendors really be at my service? People were shouting it from across the block. This is especially funny since Ecuador doesnt really have such a thing as our notion of "service", especially not in the hospitality industries. Many times I'll walk into a store or restaurant and my finely tuned Nordstrom customer service mind wants to scream, " Don't you know how much better this business could be if you just humored the clients a little!" But the native people seem unyielding in their quest to make you wait 1 or more hours for your lunch platter, overcharge you when you are not paying attention, or say they carry something to lure you into their store only to find out they dont even come close to having the product you need. They also love giving directions when they have no idea where you are going but that’s a story for another day.If I can find a way to cart all the stuff home, I should have some pretty great X-mas presents for the family. One thing that I did find striking however, was in the midst of a market filled with art and culture, there was remarkably little creativity. I made sure to congratulate the few stands who had found a product they made well, and stuck to it. It seemed like every vendor was selling the same crafts and very few stands specialized in anything in particular. The market was more focused around bartering and which booth would make you a good deal than which booth had the most original products. I have to say that after only 2.5 months here, I am undoubtedly ahead of the bargaining game compared to most gringos who are just passing through. It seems like people really do lower the starting price for you if you drop a hint that you live in Ibarra and are an English professor. At least its good for something.

Later that day we got a taste of home at the Shenandoah Pie Shop (a must stop for anyone passing through) and then went to a super cool live music venue called La Jampa with local andean music acts and lots of cheesy ecua-euro-trash music in between. The whole weekend was a great example of how local (the indigenous otavaleños) and foreign cultures (plentiful in the town and geared towards drawing and pleasing tourists) really can mesh peacefully and can complement each other instead of clash.More to come on Cuenca, Quito (round 2), and after this weekend, the beach town of Atacames.

¡Ciao amores!

Headlights and Machine Guns

Last night after class, one of my students invited Kane and I to play squash with him and a couple of his peacecorps buddies. We jumped at the opportunity to get in a little late-night excercise and show off the squash skills that had been honed by miss kait, my college roommate. I knew that this student was a great guy and had really reached out to previous volunteers so 6 of us piled into a old Fiat and took off for the campo. About 10 minutes outside the city we pulled into a super fancy all-inclusive hostal (Ecuadorian equivalent of a resort) and sweet-talked the owners into giving us some playing time on their one and only squash court. Yet another example of how important palancas (connections) are here in Ecuador. The resort was absolutely beautiful with equa-volleyball courts, 2 swimming pools, a hot tub, tennis courts, and massage parlors- all part of the amenities you get for a $50/night cabana rental. Squash was an absolute blast, although it can be rough if you cant find a partner with your same ability level. The boys were all dominating me and the other girl with us couldnt quite return my serves, but it was a great time nonetheless. Anyway, after a few rousing hours of squash we piled back into the fiat with elbows sticking out the windows, my left thigh straining to steer clear of the gear shift, and the 6`2" boys struggling to keep their knees out of their throats. As we slowly made our way back to the city, my student remarked that his headlights didnt seem to be working and we were thus driving back on a dirt road with only the street lights to guide us. Just then, we saw another color lights coming up behind us- the red and blue kind. Chuta (Shoot!), we all thought as the national trooper pulled closely up behind us. "Pull off here and stop the car," the police instructed. I must say, as waves of military fatugues and machine guns flashed before my eyes, I almost lost it. The butt of one officer´s gun was inches from Kane´s face in the passenger side window. They instructed us to get out of the car as they questioned my student about who we were, (Are they tourists?), and why he was driving with 6 people in a 5 passenger car without headlights. Now, I had a large bag sitting on my lap with a decent amount of money in it and my passport (we are required by law to carry it here) and I had heard horror stories of corrupt military officers demanding bribes. I struggled with whether to take my bag with me outside the car and risk pissing off the armed men or to leave it in the car and risk losing my money and passport. I decided on the later after hearing my father`s warnings about south american countries echoing in my head. After a quick search of the car to make sure we hadn`t been drinking and weren`t smuggling drugs they told us to get our light fixed pronto and be careful driving back with such a full car.

And that was it. They left. No bribes, no insinuation of bribes, no violence, no questions for us gringos to answer, no searching through my bag, no human trafficking to Columbia, not really even any intentional intimidation (although seeing a machine gun was quite intimidating to us Americans who were not accustomed). The police were simply doing their job and were looking out for our safety. I was shocked.

On the way home as we pressed my student about whether this was a normal run-in with the police he said that we were lucky that it was the national police and not the local police. He said about 50% of the time a small bribe is neccessary to get the local police off your back for infractions such as broken headlights. On the contrary, the national police are usually buena gente (good people), take their job very seriously, and generally conduct themselves fairly and with honor.

While I do intend to be a little more choosey when riding in cars and a little more weary of late-night escapades, I will say that the experience gave me greater respect for the Ecuadorian government and military. Hows that for a cultural experience!

La Caseria del Zorro and the Lake of Blood

This past weekend was the annual independence day for the gigantic coastal port city of Guayaquil. After much deliberation, Amy, Kane and I decided to skip the reunion with our fellow volunteers in Guayaquil to partake in a local Ibarra celebration which we had heard involved horseback riders chasing a fox. After seeing flyers and posters around the city and hearing from locals that the celebration is not the largest in the city but one of the most fun, we purchased tickets to the infamous after-party through some of our few Ecuadorian friends and anxiously waited out the weekend.
Saturday morning at roughly 10 am I traveled to the city´s main park to see the first event of the day- the parade- with my host mom and some of her friends that had driven up from Quito to witness the tradition. The blaring salsa music, colorful venders, and about 1,000 spectators anxiously awaited the procession of horses and numbered participant horseback riders fashioned in traditional dress and not-surprisingly looking like they stepped right out of a Zorro movie. When I finally got my hands on a program I found out that this was the first part of the 4-part day. After the parade, all the spectators jumped in cars and took off for the mountain where they could watch the jockeys ride down on an incredibly complex and winding course in pursuit of "Zorro", the black masked rider who had won the 2nd part of the day the year before. My brother David, was one of riders and I waived to him and his girlfriend as they passed near the front of the pack. We saw quite a few horses take a spill on one especially steep trail while munching our empanadas and sipping our Pilseners. While I thought this 2nd part of the festival must be the highlight, my host family told me that the best part was yet to come and that the riders were just getting tired out a little first. Once the riders passed and I snapped a few pics, we again jumped to our car and raced to Yaguacocha Lake (about 15 minutes outside the city) where the 3rd part, the actual race, would take place. Around the historic lake where a deadly Incan battle had once taken place deeming the site "Lake of Blood" (or Yacuacocha in Quichua), we saw a 2 mile race course that had held a sort of Ecuadorian Nascar in the 80s but had since been shut down. In recent years the Ibarra country club has sponsored this race to capture the tail of Zorro with $1,000 going to the winner. As the gun went off and the riders advanced on Zorro, the crowd went crazy with applause and cheers. Our seats in the side bleachers proved to be the best spot in the stadium to see the Zorro get his rope tail pulled off by another rider right near the end of the race. When the race finally ends around 5pm, everyone goes home to get in a siesta (nap) before the real partying starts. Around 10pm we left with my host brother and his friends to attend the after party- a 5 hour crazy dancefest hosted at a local hacienda. This was no ordinary party: There were 5 dance floors, a stage with live music, countless tents, a buffet of typical Ecuafood, and a plethora of ridiculously strong moonshine-type beverages that were all a mandatory part of the experience. As Kane and I struggled to keep up, we made a few new friends and even mingled with a few of our students. Around 3:30 we finally returned home and crashed until almost noon the next day. When I finally did get up the next day, I got out my dictionary wondering why on earth I had thought the race had to do with chasing a live fox. As I read the definition of fox, the lights finally went on in the old Basak brain. Spanish translation of fox: zorro.
Hey, better late than never, right?

In other news, today is the final day of election campaigning. On Saturday and Sunday, drinking, smoking are any other mind-altering substances are strictly prohibited/cannot be sold in preparation for the Sunday elections.

Also, yesterday I walked out of my morning class to find roughly 10 officials and the mayor of Ibarra standing around our small tropical campus. Not only did I get to meet the mayor, but amy and I left such an impression that he is planning a party/dinner at our school so we can get to know each other better. Guess who got nominated to cook?