There is a fruit and vegetable stand, called a fruteria, on the street just outside our apartment complex. It is open daily, from 7 to 7, and seems to be a family run operation. I think the fruits and vegetables are locally grown, but it's hard to tell since the apples have a label "From Chile" on them, and I don't have the words in my Spanish vocabulary to question about the other stuff. I at least know the potatoes are local - they come with about a quarter pound of dirt on each. Some of that would fall off in shipping, I imagine.
Either way, the stuff is fresh. You don't have to wait a week for the avocados to ripen. And I haven't yet seen a green banana. It's actually how I have always idealized my purchase of fruits and veggies. Convenient, fresh, and cheap. So, it is nice to be able to finally realize the ideal.
Maya, Jonah and I walk there almost daily - that it is walking distance is part of the convenience. The other part of the convenience is that I don't have a lot of things to do during the day, so I can go there whenever I want. The things we buy include papayas, apples, tomatoes, strawberries, potatoes (There is small variety of potato which Maya likes. They are the size of a walnut), bananas, pineapples, watermelons, onions, garlic, eggs, tomatillos, spinach, avocados, tangerines, lemons, oranges, and granadillas.
A granadilla looks like an orange, but when you crack it open (not peel it open) it is white and mucousy on the inside with black seeds that look like tadpoles. It tastes sort of citrus-y, but is sweet and crunchy. Rebecca likes them.
Some of the other differences from buying fruit/veggies at home are that the onions and garlic come already peeled. So no messy onion and garlic skins turning up under your toaster oven and all over your floor. If that sort of thing bothers you.
The strawberries are cool because you can rummage through them to get the good ones. You aren't stuck with whatever comes in the plastic green tray. The other day after we brought some strawberries, we were sitting back in our apartment eating them. Maya followed each bite with an "Mmmmm" because they were so sweet. Finally, Maya got one that was kind of white on top (Jonah must have picked that one and it slipped past my quality control). She ate it anyway. When I asked her how it was, she said, "It was sweeter than I thought it was going to be."
The watermelons have seeds. This morning I spent about half an hour de-seeding a watermelon. My kids won't even eat the piece if it has seeds. Same thing with the tangerines. Seeds in fruit is so foreign to them and they can't be bothered to deal with it. I'm interested to see how they would handle ice cream if it came with seeds.
Can you even buy a seeded watermelon in the States anymore? As far as I am concerned, seedless watermelons are one of the great inventions of the United States. I can only imagine how much better our society would be if we had invented the seedless watermelon earlier in our history. George Washington would have led us to victory in the Revolutionary War at least five years earlier if all those hours that he spent de-seeding watermelons for the troops could have been spent strategizing. And imagine how much sooner Barry Bonds would have broken Hank Aaron's home run record.
I understand also that Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation originally included language about a fair wage for watermelon de-seeders, however, the Northern moral-elite who were funding the war wanted that part cut out and Lincoln caved.
Some other watermelon lore you may not have known about is that the operator of the Hindenburg was eating watermelon and spit a seed out that jammed the steering column. Gandhi actually walked to the sea because he mistakenly thought he could get a free watermelon there. Shortly before Hurricane Katrina, Bush ordered FEMA to fortify the levee's in New Orleans with the surplus watermelons the Federal Government had purchased from the Nations farmers for $8.6 billion under the "Let's Make Agri-Business the Nation's Business Act of 2006"
And, I read somewhere that the day Thomas Jefferson delivered the Bill of Rights to the Continental Congress was the day of his grand-daughters fourth birthday party. He spent the day prior cutting and de-seeding eleven watermelons for the event. Because he was on deadline for his assignment for the Republic, but still had to prepare the watermelons, he didn't have time to give his draft a proof-read before he turned it in. That's why the Second Amendment is so ambiguous.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
A Diamond Brocade with Chicken on the High Seas
It's Wednesday night. It's been raining since we woke up on Tuesday morning except for two brief pauses. During the first pause, Tuesday around noon, Maya, Jonah and I hopped the Ecovia to Rebecca's office and had lunch with her. The second pause in the deluge was today, while we were driving with Carmen, our landlady. It reminds me of the one time I was in Ireland. It rained the entire five days I was there except for the five hours I spent in a bus from Dublin to Galway.
Wednesday - We spent the early part of this morning playing restaurant. Jonah mixed our playing cards up in a bowl and served them as mud pies. After my tenth serving of mud pie, I asked him if he had made the pies himself - yeah. If there was mud in them - yeah. If there was sugar in them - yeah. How long they had to cook - without missing a beat - 30 hours.
Maya set up Jonah's room as a restaurant. She wanted to call the restaurant Gadsby's Tavern, which is the name of a Colonial-era tavern in Alexandria, and the site of one of her class trips. But we named it Jonah's Tavern instead. But it's still a fancy place, she said. Later, when Jonah sold out to Maya, we changed the name to Maya's Tavern. Depending on the owner, we hung a clothes hanger over the door knob with the appropriate homemade sign taped to it. Maya expanded the menu to include hot dogs and hamburgers. Mud pies were only for dessert. She made two menus so we didn't get confused.
At some point, Carmen stopped by unexpectedly before we got things together enough to go to the grocery. It wasn't as bad as when my college landlord used to stop by unexpectedly. Everyone had their clothes on, the bongs were put away, and the music was at an acceptable decibel. The only thing that was slightly out of the ordinary was that Jonah's frisbee and rubber ball were in the refrigerator.
Carmen picking us up today and chauffeuring us around proved to be a stroke of good fortune. We didn't get dropped back off here until close to four - enough time for the kids to goof around without driving me mad and for me to make tacos. The first place Carmen took us was to a house she is having renovated in a barrio called San Rafeal. San Rafeal is in a valley called the Valle de los Chillos - about 25 minutes drive from Quito. When Rebecca was looking for a place for us to live, we considered a few places in Sangolqui and Conocoto, which are in the Valle de los Chillos. So, it was good to get a picture of what we missed out on.
Carmen's house in San Rafeal was a dump. The entire development to which it is a part had weeds growing up through the streets and sidewalks, scattered piles of aged lumber and rusted and broken building materials, dusty windows, empty houses and driveways, and broken glass and other rubbish littered about. I think it was trying to be a ghost town. The kids had fun playing amid the rubble. They are very adaptable.
Seemingly, the only person alive in the place was the guy who was working on Carmen's place. It turns out the general contractor who was developing the complex split when he was halfway done. So everyone is putting their places together piece by piece. Carmen says the process has been going on for eight years.
The only other thing of note in San Rafeal occurred outside the gates to the un-development. There was a brown dog and a shorter, hairier dog, a poodle, I guess. The poodle was trying to mount the brown dog, but was probably half a foot shorter and, apparently, not well enough endowed to deliver the goods. As we drove away, the poodle had abandoned the doggy-style approach and moved around to the front. The brown dog seemed game.
After San Rafeal we went to a big mall in Conocoto. The kids had fun playing with the Little Tykes playground equipment that was set up for display in the toy store. I had fun listening to the 1980's era soundtrack blasting through the mall. I remember hearing Jesse's Girl, Cuts Like a Knife, and Walk Like an Egyptian. All that was missing was Video Killed the Radio Star.
Tuesday - After we ate lunch with Rebecca yesterday, Maya, Jonah and I went to the Museo Nacional del Banco Central del Ecuador, the premier museum in Quito. It cost 2 bucks to get in, and the kids were free, so I didn't care if we spent fifteen minutes there, and all of them in the bathroom. It was dry and I didn't feel like I was flushing money down the toilet.
It turns out that both kids really enjoyed the pre-Columbian ceramics and gold artifacts room and we spent about an hour there. In addition to hundreds of cisterns, bowls, and other implements (of which, we managed not to break any) this one big room had multiple scale models depicting life among the natives, with detailed hunting, farming, jungle and village scenes. It was pretty neat. Maya liked looking at the models and Jonah liked hanging on the railings that separated us from the models.
When Maya asked why one person in the village model was tied to the ground, I tried to explain the concept of sacrifice. I told her that some people believed in a being called God and that God was like Santa Claus. Even though you can't see God, God can see what you are doing and punishes you if you are bad and rewards you if you are good. The natives that used to live in Ecuador believed in God and believed that if you gave him things - people or animals, he would be happy and would do good things for the village. I had to make this up on the spot since I had forgotten what I had planned to tell Maya when she eventually asked me about God. Fortunately, she didn't ask me if I believe in God. I've also forgotten what I had practiced to tell her about that - and I think having to make that up too, and to have it sound as reasonable, would have been pushing my luck.
One thought about ceramic vessels. Some of them were shaped like men standing with an elongated tube like a penis for water to come through. Imagine drinking through that. It occurred to me that the native folks skilled in pottery probably made one of these every once in a while just as a goof. When the guy who made it brought it home, his wife was like, you can keep it in the basement, but we aren't using it when we have company. And the guy is like fine, but I want you to bury me with it. It's the equivalent of the modern day vulgar plastic novelty item where there's this fat guy, you pull down his pants, and a stream of water emits from a hole in the space where his penis is supposed to be. And centuries later, because the guy is buried with it, we think the Inca had some elaborate ritualistic purpose for these phallic water vessels. Like their wedding registries included items from the phallic china line. When really, it was just some guy being crude.
Anyway, the most impressive thing to Maya was the mummified remains of a female skeleton, complete with hair and burial garb. It reminded me of the skeletal bride from the movie "The Corpse Bride", but not as hot. Maya had to pee while we were looking at it, but wouldn't go until she was sure we would come right back there when she was done so she could look some more. She asked a few times if it was a girl. It was, according to the text on the display. There was some copper oxidation on the skull where her ears would have been and this indicates she was buried with earrings. Also, some of her dress was indicative of a gal.
The other thing that really intrigued Maya was a full scale model of a burial chamber. It included a guy all decked out in gold, with dozens of ceramic bowls, containers, etc, some of them filled with fake corn, fish, and one bowl filled to the brim with this porridge-like gruel. I explained to Maya that the bowls, gold, etc were real and the rest of the stuff was fake because you couldn't have real food in there on display because it would rot. That got me into explaining the whole re-birth in another world thing and why they needed all that stuff. Maya seemed like she was really engaged. After my two or three minute monologue, she's quiet, contemplative, and finally asks - what is the porridge made out of?
By the end of the first floor, the kids were done. But Maya didn't want to leave. We went through the second floor, which was mostly religious paintings, and we were all bored to tears. Jonah was all set to go, but Maya still didn't want to leave. The third floor had secular and colonial era art. To appease Maya and make it more interesting for Jonah, we agreed to make chicken noises for every painting that contained a chicken, wind in the sail noises for every painting with a boat in it, and put our hands to our cheeks and go "Ahhhh" for every painting that had a jewel in it.
The floor didn't have one painting that had a chicken, boat or jewel. What the hell kind of colonials were these people?
Wednesday - We spent the early part of this morning playing restaurant. Jonah mixed our playing cards up in a bowl and served them as mud pies. After my tenth serving of mud pie, I asked him if he had made the pies himself - yeah. If there was mud in them - yeah. If there was sugar in them - yeah. How long they had to cook - without missing a beat - 30 hours.
Maya set up Jonah's room as a restaurant. She wanted to call the restaurant Gadsby's Tavern, which is the name of a Colonial-era tavern in Alexandria, and the site of one of her class trips. But we named it Jonah's Tavern instead. But it's still a fancy place, she said. Later, when Jonah sold out to Maya, we changed the name to Maya's Tavern. Depending on the owner, we hung a clothes hanger over the door knob with the appropriate homemade sign taped to it. Maya expanded the menu to include hot dogs and hamburgers. Mud pies were only for dessert. She made two menus so we didn't get confused.
At some point, Carmen stopped by unexpectedly before we got things together enough to go to the grocery. It wasn't as bad as when my college landlord used to stop by unexpectedly. Everyone had their clothes on, the bongs were put away, and the music was at an acceptable decibel. The only thing that was slightly out of the ordinary was that Jonah's frisbee and rubber ball were in the refrigerator.
Carmen picking us up today and chauffeuring us around proved to be a stroke of good fortune. We didn't get dropped back off here until close to four - enough time for the kids to goof around without driving me mad and for me to make tacos. The first place Carmen took us was to a house she is having renovated in a barrio called San Rafeal. San Rafeal is in a valley called the Valle de los Chillos - about 25 minutes drive from Quito. When Rebecca was looking for a place for us to live, we considered a few places in Sangolqui and Conocoto, which are in the Valle de los Chillos. So, it was good to get a picture of what we missed out on.
Carmen's house in San Rafeal was a dump. The entire development to which it is a part had weeds growing up through the streets and sidewalks, scattered piles of aged lumber and rusted and broken building materials, dusty windows, empty houses and driveways, and broken glass and other rubbish littered about. I think it was trying to be a ghost town. The kids had fun playing amid the rubble. They are very adaptable.
Seemingly, the only person alive in the place was the guy who was working on Carmen's place. It turns out the general contractor who was developing the complex split when he was halfway done. So everyone is putting their places together piece by piece. Carmen says the process has been going on for eight years.
The only other thing of note in San Rafeal occurred outside the gates to the un-development. There was a brown dog and a shorter, hairier dog, a poodle, I guess. The poodle was trying to mount the brown dog, but was probably half a foot shorter and, apparently, not well enough endowed to deliver the goods. As we drove away, the poodle had abandoned the doggy-style approach and moved around to the front. The brown dog seemed game.
After San Rafeal we went to a big mall in Conocoto. The kids had fun playing with the Little Tykes playground equipment that was set up for display in the toy store. I had fun listening to the 1980's era soundtrack blasting through the mall. I remember hearing Jesse's Girl, Cuts Like a Knife, and Walk Like an Egyptian. All that was missing was Video Killed the Radio Star.
Tuesday - After we ate lunch with Rebecca yesterday, Maya, Jonah and I went to the Museo Nacional del Banco Central del Ecuador, the premier museum in Quito. It cost 2 bucks to get in, and the kids were free, so I didn't care if we spent fifteen minutes there, and all of them in the bathroom. It was dry and I didn't feel like I was flushing money down the toilet.
It turns out that both kids really enjoyed the pre-Columbian ceramics and gold artifacts room and we spent about an hour there. In addition to hundreds of cisterns, bowls, and other implements (of which, we managed not to break any) this one big room had multiple scale models depicting life among the natives, with detailed hunting, farming, jungle and village scenes. It was pretty neat. Maya liked looking at the models and Jonah liked hanging on the railings that separated us from the models.
When Maya asked why one person in the village model was tied to the ground, I tried to explain the concept of sacrifice. I told her that some people believed in a being called God and that God was like Santa Claus. Even though you can't see God, God can see what you are doing and punishes you if you are bad and rewards you if you are good. The natives that used to live in Ecuador believed in God and believed that if you gave him things - people or animals, he would be happy and would do good things for the village. I had to make this up on the spot since I had forgotten what I had planned to tell Maya when she eventually asked me about God. Fortunately, she didn't ask me if I believe in God. I've also forgotten what I had practiced to tell her about that - and I think having to make that up too, and to have it sound as reasonable, would have been pushing my luck.
One thought about ceramic vessels. Some of them were shaped like men standing with an elongated tube like a penis for water to come through. Imagine drinking through that. It occurred to me that the native folks skilled in pottery probably made one of these every once in a while just as a goof. When the guy who made it brought it home, his wife was like, you can keep it in the basement, but we aren't using it when we have company. And the guy is like fine, but I want you to bury me with it. It's the equivalent of the modern day vulgar plastic novelty item where there's this fat guy, you pull down his pants, and a stream of water emits from a hole in the space where his penis is supposed to be. And centuries later, because the guy is buried with it, we think the Inca had some elaborate ritualistic purpose for these phallic water vessels. Like their wedding registries included items from the phallic china line. When really, it was just some guy being crude.
Anyway, the most impressive thing to Maya was the mummified remains of a female skeleton, complete with hair and burial garb. It reminded me of the skeletal bride from the movie "The Corpse Bride", but not as hot. Maya had to pee while we were looking at it, but wouldn't go until she was sure we would come right back there when she was done so she could look some more. She asked a few times if it was a girl. It was, according to the text on the display. There was some copper oxidation on the skull where her ears would have been and this indicates she was buried with earrings. Also, some of her dress was indicative of a gal.
The other thing that really intrigued Maya was a full scale model of a burial chamber. It included a guy all decked out in gold, with dozens of ceramic bowls, containers, etc, some of them filled with fake corn, fish, and one bowl filled to the brim with this porridge-like gruel. I explained to Maya that the bowls, gold, etc were real and the rest of the stuff was fake because you couldn't have real food in there on display because it would rot. That got me into explaining the whole re-birth in another world thing and why they needed all that stuff. Maya seemed like she was really engaged. After my two or three minute monologue, she's quiet, contemplative, and finally asks - what is the porridge made out of?
By the end of the first floor, the kids were done. But Maya didn't want to leave. We went through the second floor, which was mostly religious paintings, and we were all bored to tears. Jonah was all set to go, but Maya still didn't want to leave. The third floor had secular and colonial era art. To appease Maya and make it more interesting for Jonah, we agreed to make chicken noises for every painting that contained a chicken, wind in the sail noises for every painting with a boat in it, and put our hands to our cheeks and go "Ahhhh" for every painting that had a jewel in it.
The floor didn't have one painting that had a chicken, boat or jewel. What the hell kind of colonials were these people?
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
The Incan Peasant's Lament
Here's a poem that I wrote:
The Incan Peasant's Lament
When the burning disc disappears from the sky
here, 10,000 feet above the equator,
a bone chill invades your being
such that you cast your eyes and arms to the creator,
willing to sacrifice anything for its hasty return.
The Incan Peasant's Lament
When the burning disc disappears from the sky
here, 10,000 feet above the equator,
a bone chill invades your being
such that you cast your eyes and arms to the creator,
willing to sacrifice anything for its hasty return.
Monday, May 26, 2008
All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
This is a poem by Richard Brautigan:
the sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.
Basically, Maya and Jonah were unbearable this weekend. Whining, crying, barfing, fighting, pushing, scene-making, and on and on. It was not much fun to be around them. I was dreading how they were going to be today when Rebecca was going to be at work from 8 until 5 (now I know how she feels on an Alexandria Monday when I head off to work).
But, miraculously, they were great. Aside from an early morning "carry me" monologue from Jonah that must have been left over from yesterday, they were great. After we went to the grocery store, we came back to the apartment and they put on their swimsuits and pretended to go swimming in the living room. Then, after we ate lunch at 10:30 a.m., we went out for the day.
The plan was to go to the post office and then to the spider museum in Parque Carolina. We got to the post office about 11:30 (Mrs. Bradley, Mrs Potts, and Celeste, expect mail!) and finally got to the spider museum at 4 p.m. In between, we made mud pies, pretended we were motorcycles and walked/ran the BMX/motorcross track in the park, practiced screaming "Ayudame!" as we rolled down a grassy hill, broke a coke bottle at a corner store, and of course, ate ice cream.
The park has all kinds of vendors riding around on bikes or walking around pulling their wares on a cart. Our favorite vendor is el hombre de helado (the ice cream man). The kids can spot him from across the park. He rides a bike with a cooler welded to the front. During our few days in the park, we've encountered the same ice cream man a few times. I think he is ripping me off since his sign says it's 50 centavos for this particular ice cream on a stick that the kids like, but he charges me 65 centavos. But what the hell, it's ice cream. It's worth every centavo.
Today, the kids ordered the Ron Paya flavor. I now know that Ron Paya means rum raisin. I think the kids ordered it because of its bright yellow color in the picture on the front of the cooler. Well, that's why Maya ordered it. Jonah just orders what she orders. After the first lick I could tell neither one liked it. Maya wanted something else, but Jonah was going to soldier on and eat his. As a responsible parent, I did not think it wise to let him finish an entire pop of rum raisin. So I ate both his and hers and gave them the strawberry/vanilla sundae thing that I ordered. They were happy with that arrangement.
This occurred very early in the day. I was afraid that I would not be able to bribe them with the prospect of ice cream or other sweets later in the day when they started breaking down and needed some encouragement to behave. But, for whatever reason (and we all know the reason, but Rebecca will feel terrible if I come right out and say it was because she wasn't around) the kids behaved beautifully. We had a great day.
As it was approaching 4 p.m.,we hadn't made it to the spider museum yet, and I was debating heading home. I mentioned this to Maya and she said that she thought I had forgotten about going to the spider museum because I hadn't mentioned it in while and she still wanted to go. So we did.
Our guidebook says there is a "chilling display of large spiders" in the museum (I assume it means of the dead and behind glass variety) but we only saw one. The kids liked seeing it, but probably not the best. I think the best thing they liked was the stuffed bear that greets you as you enter the place. Or the few alligators scattered around the place. Jonah has this thing recently where whenever we cross the run-off along the curbs or a large puddle, he will say that there are alligators in there. But if you see any to tell him and he'll scare them off by shouting, "Boo!".
The other things the guidebook mentions as being of interest at the museum are a 7 meter anaconda skeleton and a skeleton of a giant prehistoric sloth. Those things were both there. And you could walk right up to them and touch them if you didn't read Spanish (Por Favor, No Tocar signs were abundant). Fortunately, Maya and Jonah didn't want to touch them. Because I did have visions of those things crashing to the ground and me and my idiotic Spanish trying to explain it. We were the only people in the place, there would have been no choice but to own up.
Already on my watch, Jonah broke a glass juice pitcher in the Mega Maxi on Sunday when he rolled a ball a few aisles from the toy section to the glassware section. Stupid to display glass pitchers on the bottom shelf. When it shattered, Jonah got his first lesson in walking stealthily away.
And today, we ordered a small coke with our empanada snack. There are sodas for sale in plastic bottles, but since there is no recycling here, I asked for the glass returnable one. Maya, Jonah and I each took a sip, and I put it on the counter. When Maya spun to take a bite of empanada, her elbow knocked into the bottle and it shattered on the floor. So, that bottle ended up in the landfill anyway.
All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace
I'd like to think (andthe sooner the better!)
of a cybernetic meadow
where mammals and computers
live together in mutually
programming harmony
like pure water
touching clear sky.
I like to think
(right now, please!)
of a cybernetic forest
filled with pines and electronics
where deer stroll peacefully
past computers
as if they were flowers
with spinning blossoms.
I like to think
(it has to be!)
of a cybernetic ecology
where we are free of our labors
and joined back to nature,
returned to our mammal brothers and sisters,
and all watched over
by machines of loving grace.
Basically, Maya and Jonah were unbearable this weekend. Whining, crying, barfing, fighting, pushing, scene-making, and on and on. It was not much fun to be around them. I was dreading how they were going to be today when Rebecca was going to be at work from 8 until 5 (now I know how she feels on an Alexandria Monday when I head off to work).
But, miraculously, they were great. Aside from an early morning "carry me" monologue from Jonah that must have been left over from yesterday, they were great. After we went to the grocery store, we came back to the apartment and they put on their swimsuits and pretended to go swimming in the living room. Then, after we ate lunch at 10:30 a.m., we went out for the day.
The plan was to go to the post office and then to the spider museum in Parque Carolina. We got to the post office about 11:30 (Mrs. Bradley, Mrs Potts, and Celeste, expect mail!) and finally got to the spider museum at 4 p.m. In between, we made mud pies, pretended we were motorcycles and walked/ran the BMX/motorcross track in the park, practiced screaming "Ayudame!" as we rolled down a grassy hill, broke a coke bottle at a corner store, and of course, ate ice cream.
The park has all kinds of vendors riding around on bikes or walking around pulling their wares on a cart. Our favorite vendor is el hombre de helado (the ice cream man). The kids can spot him from across the park. He rides a bike with a cooler welded to the front. During our few days in the park, we've encountered the same ice cream man a few times. I think he is ripping me off since his sign says it's 50 centavos for this particular ice cream on a stick that the kids like, but he charges me 65 centavos. But what the hell, it's ice cream. It's worth every centavo.
Today, the kids ordered the Ron Paya flavor. I now know that Ron Paya means rum raisin. I think the kids ordered it because of its bright yellow color in the picture on the front of the cooler. Well, that's why Maya ordered it. Jonah just orders what she orders. After the first lick I could tell neither one liked it. Maya wanted something else, but Jonah was going to soldier on and eat his. As a responsible parent, I did not think it wise to let him finish an entire pop of rum raisin. So I ate both his and hers and gave them the strawberry/vanilla sundae thing that I ordered. They were happy with that arrangement.
This occurred very early in the day. I was afraid that I would not be able to bribe them with the prospect of ice cream or other sweets later in the day when they started breaking down and needed some encouragement to behave. But, for whatever reason (and we all know the reason, but Rebecca will feel terrible if I come right out and say it was because she wasn't around) the kids behaved beautifully. We had a great day.
As it was approaching 4 p.m.,we hadn't made it to the spider museum yet, and I was debating heading home. I mentioned this to Maya and she said that she thought I had forgotten about going to the spider museum because I hadn't mentioned it in while and she still wanted to go. So we did.
Our guidebook says there is a "chilling display of large spiders" in the museum (I assume it means of the dead and behind glass variety) but we only saw one. The kids liked seeing it, but probably not the best. I think the best thing they liked was the stuffed bear that greets you as you enter the place. Or the few alligators scattered around the place. Jonah has this thing recently where whenever we cross the run-off along the curbs or a large puddle, he will say that there are alligators in there. But if you see any to tell him and he'll scare them off by shouting, "Boo!".
The other things the guidebook mentions as being of interest at the museum are a 7 meter anaconda skeleton and a skeleton of a giant prehistoric sloth. Those things were both there. And you could walk right up to them and touch them if you didn't read Spanish (Por Favor, No Tocar signs were abundant). Fortunately, Maya and Jonah didn't want to touch them. Because I did have visions of those things crashing to the ground and me and my idiotic Spanish trying to explain it. We were the only people in the place, there would have been no choice but to own up.
Already on my watch, Jonah broke a glass juice pitcher in the Mega Maxi on Sunday when he rolled a ball a few aisles from the toy section to the glassware section. Stupid to display glass pitchers on the bottom shelf. When it shattered, Jonah got his first lesson in walking stealthily away.
And today, we ordered a small coke with our empanada snack. There are sodas for sale in plastic bottles, but since there is no recycling here, I asked for the glass returnable one. Maya, Jonah and I each took a sip, and I put it on the counter. When Maya spun to take a bite of empanada, her elbow knocked into the bottle and it shattered on the floor. So, that bottle ended up in the landfill anyway.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
The Drunk at the Dinner Party
I am going to try to contain my diarrhea of the mouth tonight as it is nearly midnight, there are dishes to be done (Rebecca and I both fell asleep around 7 while putting the kids to bed), lots of Tauxemont stuff to be contemplated and a general cleanup of the rest of the place to consider.
Our refrigerator broke this morning. Woke up to a puddle of water on the kitchen floor, pools of water in the ice tray and warm beer in the fridge. The other day on the elevator, I met a man who indicated that he lived in the apartment directly above us (not sure if he was telling me this to be friendly or to subtly ask me to have the kids keep the noise down). Turns out he was being friendly because today, he and his wife agreed to keep our perishables in their refrigerator. Apparently, refrigerator repairs don't happen on weekends.
I want to respond to a comment that was posted regarding indoor vs outdoor pools. Yes, Ecuador is named after the equator. Hard for me to estimate the temperatures we've encountered since I have not seen a thermometer, the news or a newspaper, but my guess is that it has been mid-60's to mid-70's each day. That's a bit cool for outdoor swimming. I understand too that those are standard temperatures for Quito during the year. Even though Quito is essentially on the equator, it is 10,000 feet above sea level. So, the temps might be one reason for the indoor pools. Second, it's rained for at least a short time just about every afternoon we've been here and has been cloudy off and on for extended periods each day. May is supposed to be the rainiest month (according to our guidebook) but (also according to our guidebook), this daily weather pattern is prevalent throughout the year. They just get less rain each day during the non-rainy season. So, that could be reason number two for the indoor pools. Finally, obviously, the sunscreen manufacturers must not have an effectively lobby. If they did, they would "suggest"to the Ecuadorian congress to pass a law to require only outdoor pools, and then clean-up in sales as everyone who wants to go swimming lathers on a bottle for each swim. We would definitely bust our budget if a full-body sunscreen application for the kids was required each time we went swimming. As it is, we have been applying sunscreen before we go out each day and then reapplying several times during the day. And we still getting mildly burnt. I got sunburned on my head through my hat a few days (A sunburnt scalp is about the only downside I can think of to being bald. When I go out now, I wear a bandanna and a hat on my head). So, from my perspective, hip-hip hooray to the indoor pool idea for all these reasons.
Now, on to the significance of the title of this post. No, it was not me.
The story actually begins about 11 a.m. on Friday morning. Maya, Jonah and I were visiting a local pre-school that Rebecca and I might send them too. Jonah had woken up early Friday morning to vomit, but was fine at breakfast and afterwards. Things were going swimmingly at the pre-school visit. The kids were playing and a boy named Martin had taken to Maya. He was doing stupid boy stuff like running into walls, falling down, and blabbering on and on to get her attention. She thought he was hysterical. He was pretty funny. Anyway, after we had been there awhile, Jonah and I were playing with some matchbox cars on one of those rugs that has buildings and roads on it, when, unannounced, he vomits onto the both of us. He did some more of that into a garbage can that I grabbed and then into the toilet bowl. Poor kid. It was the first real vomit of his life and he didn't know what was going on. He cried quite a bit (accompanied by the ubiquitous and irritating "I want Mommy!" phrase so popular with he and Maya) before settling down. I guess the bright side is I now know Jonah looks good in yellow. The school let us borrow a yellow t-shirt for him to wear home. They did not have anything in my size, however.
As you might expect, that ended our pre-school visit. On the taxi ride home, Jonah fell asleep and Maya is looking paler and paler. As soon as we step out of the taxi onto the curb in front of our gated compound, she lets forth with her own jetstream. Poor her. But she was a trooper helping me get Jonah and all our stuff through the gates and doors into our apartment.
I put Jonah to bed, got Maya cleaned up (she had splattered her shoes and pants) and read her a few books until she fell asleep. Then I did laundry and took a nap.
The plan was to meet Rebecca at her boss' that night (Friday) for a dinner party and Rebecca and I thought about calling it off. But, as the time to leave rolls around Maya and Jonah were fine. They had eaten some noodles around 4 and were playing happily. So, we decided the dinner party could be graced by our presence.
Maya vomited in the taxi on the ride out to the place. Fortunately, she felt it coming and I was able to get a plastic bag under it. The taxi driver definitely drove faster after that though. Rebecca and her office had not yet arrived when Maya, Jonah and I got to the party (at this fancy house in the rich part of Quito). I got Maya cleaned up again (poor her, she got her shirt this time and since I am new at this being in charge of the kids thing, I didn't bring her a change of clothes. I had a sweatshirt of Jonah's in the pack that fit her - though, it was more of a three-quarter sleeve sweatshirt on her). When Rebecca comes in, Jonah goes running through the dining room leaps into her arms, and vomits all over the floor (and incidentally, onto his new yellow t-shirt that I had left him in because he looked so good in it). Fortunately, the floor was tile. And, Michelle, Rebecca's boss, had a nephew that lived nearby bring a shirt for Maya, so Jonah could wear his sweatshirt. So, at least both of our children remained fully clothed for the rest of the evening.
Of course, no one else at the party (all of Rebecca's office) has kids. But they all did a good job of ignoring us while we dealt with things and of being understanding. After we got things cleaned up, things were well under way with appetizers and getting the pizzas going (it was a make your own pizza dinner party). Maya, at least, knew her limits, but Jonah did not. He reminds me of me more each day.
He wanted this to eat, that to eat, and although we tried to dissuade him, he managed to get some food out of us. And they weren't putting things like melba toast and tea on the pizzas. When the host began cooking bacon, both Maya and Jonah were on him like white on rice. So, combine greasy bacon with upset stomachs and you get a picture of where this is going.
We all sit down to the dinner table, set with very nice china, start eating, and Jonah, who is sitting on Rebecca's lap, vomits into her dish. Before she had even taken a bite. It didn't take Maya long to follow suit. Though, again, she felt it coming and got to the bathroom. When we were all cleaned up again, Michelle's husband was kind enough to call us a cab and show us the door.
Rebecca and I figured out that the cause of the stomach ailments was the swimming pool we went to on Thursday. Jonah has a tendency to drink the water and Maya must have gotten some down her gullet as well. Last summer, after a swimming pool visit, Jonah had diarrhea and the pediatrician asked if he had been swimming recently. So, that is what we think caused it this time as well. Anyway, Jonah was fine today. Maya had some lingering issues but hopefully she'll bounce back tomorrow.
Our refrigerator broke this morning. Woke up to a puddle of water on the kitchen floor, pools of water in the ice tray and warm beer in the fridge. The other day on the elevator, I met a man who indicated that he lived in the apartment directly above us (not sure if he was telling me this to be friendly or to subtly ask me to have the kids keep the noise down). Turns out he was being friendly because today, he and his wife agreed to keep our perishables in their refrigerator. Apparently, refrigerator repairs don't happen on weekends.
I want to respond to a comment that was posted regarding indoor vs outdoor pools. Yes, Ecuador is named after the equator. Hard for me to estimate the temperatures we've encountered since I have not seen a thermometer, the news or a newspaper, but my guess is that it has been mid-60's to mid-70's each day. That's a bit cool for outdoor swimming. I understand too that those are standard temperatures for Quito during the year. Even though Quito is essentially on the equator, it is 10,000 feet above sea level. So, the temps might be one reason for the indoor pools. Second, it's rained for at least a short time just about every afternoon we've been here and has been cloudy off and on for extended periods each day. May is supposed to be the rainiest month (according to our guidebook) but (also according to our guidebook), this daily weather pattern is prevalent throughout the year. They just get less rain each day during the non-rainy season. So, that could be reason number two for the indoor pools. Finally, obviously, the sunscreen manufacturers must not have an effectively lobby. If they did, they would "suggest"to the Ecuadorian congress to pass a law to require only outdoor pools, and then clean-up in sales as everyone who wants to go swimming lathers on a bottle for each swim. We would definitely bust our budget if a full-body sunscreen application for the kids was required each time we went swimming. As it is, we have been applying sunscreen before we go out each day and then reapplying several times during the day. And we still getting mildly burnt. I got sunburned on my head through my hat a few days (A sunburnt scalp is about the only downside I can think of to being bald. When I go out now, I wear a bandanna and a hat on my head). So, from my perspective, hip-hip hooray to the indoor pool idea for all these reasons.
Now, on to the significance of the title of this post. No, it was not me.
The story actually begins about 11 a.m. on Friday morning. Maya, Jonah and I were visiting a local pre-school that Rebecca and I might send them too. Jonah had woken up early Friday morning to vomit, but was fine at breakfast and afterwards. Things were going swimmingly at the pre-school visit. The kids were playing and a boy named Martin had taken to Maya. He was doing stupid boy stuff like running into walls, falling down, and blabbering on and on to get her attention. She thought he was hysterical. He was pretty funny. Anyway, after we had been there awhile, Jonah and I were playing with some matchbox cars on one of those rugs that has buildings and roads on it, when, unannounced, he vomits onto the both of us. He did some more of that into a garbage can that I grabbed and then into the toilet bowl. Poor kid. It was the first real vomit of his life and he didn't know what was going on. He cried quite a bit (accompanied by the ubiquitous and irritating "I want Mommy!" phrase so popular with he and Maya) before settling down. I guess the bright side is I now know Jonah looks good in yellow. The school let us borrow a yellow t-shirt for him to wear home. They did not have anything in my size, however.
As you might expect, that ended our pre-school visit. On the taxi ride home, Jonah fell asleep and Maya is looking paler and paler. As soon as we step out of the taxi onto the curb in front of our gated compound, she lets forth with her own jetstream. Poor her. But she was a trooper helping me get Jonah and all our stuff through the gates and doors into our apartment.
I put Jonah to bed, got Maya cleaned up (she had splattered her shoes and pants) and read her a few books until she fell asleep. Then I did laundry and took a nap.
The plan was to meet Rebecca at her boss' that night (Friday) for a dinner party and Rebecca and I thought about calling it off. But, as the time to leave rolls around Maya and Jonah were fine. They had eaten some noodles around 4 and were playing happily. So, we decided the dinner party could be graced by our presence.
Maya vomited in the taxi on the ride out to the place. Fortunately, she felt it coming and I was able to get a plastic bag under it. The taxi driver definitely drove faster after that though. Rebecca and her office had not yet arrived when Maya, Jonah and I got to the party (at this fancy house in the rich part of Quito). I got Maya cleaned up again (poor her, she got her shirt this time and since I am new at this being in charge of the kids thing, I didn't bring her a change of clothes. I had a sweatshirt of Jonah's in the pack that fit her - though, it was more of a three-quarter sleeve sweatshirt on her). When Rebecca comes in, Jonah goes running through the dining room leaps into her arms, and vomits all over the floor (and incidentally, onto his new yellow t-shirt that I had left him in because he looked so good in it). Fortunately, the floor was tile. And, Michelle, Rebecca's boss, had a nephew that lived nearby bring a shirt for Maya, so Jonah could wear his sweatshirt. So, at least both of our children remained fully clothed for the rest of the evening.
Of course, no one else at the party (all of Rebecca's office) has kids. But they all did a good job of ignoring us while we dealt with things and of being understanding. After we got things cleaned up, things were well under way with appetizers and getting the pizzas going (it was a make your own pizza dinner party). Maya, at least, knew her limits, but Jonah did not. He reminds me of me more each day.
He wanted this to eat, that to eat, and although we tried to dissuade him, he managed to get some food out of us. And they weren't putting things like melba toast and tea on the pizzas. When the host began cooking bacon, both Maya and Jonah were on him like white on rice. So, combine greasy bacon with upset stomachs and you get a picture of where this is going.
We all sit down to the dinner table, set with very nice china, start eating, and Jonah, who is sitting on Rebecca's lap, vomits into her dish. Before she had even taken a bite. It didn't take Maya long to follow suit. Though, again, she felt it coming and got to the bathroom. When we were all cleaned up again, Michelle's husband was kind enough to call us a cab and show us the door.
Rebecca and I figured out that the cause of the stomach ailments was the swimming pool we went to on Thursday. Jonah has a tendency to drink the water and Maya must have gotten some down her gullet as well. Last summer, after a swimming pool visit, Jonah had diarrhea and the pediatrician asked if he had been swimming recently. So, that is what we think caused it this time as well. Anyway, Jonah was fine today. Maya had some lingering issues but hopefully she'll bounce back tomorrow.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Not all fun and games
Please give a big round of applause to our guest blogger, Rebecca . . .
So in all the fun and games that Paul describes he and the kids engaging in, it's easy to bypass the reason that we're here. I'm volunteering with a truly amazing organization called Asylum Access. This non-profit, non-governmental organization provides free legal services to refugees around the world. They opened an office here in Quito in November and I'm part of a second wave of volunteers to pass through.
According to the UN definition, a 'refugee' is a person who owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, is outside the country of their nationality, and is unable to or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail him/herself of the protection of that country. As I may have mentioned before, Ecuador has approximately 250,000 refugees from neighboring Colombia, due to over 40 years of an internal armed conflict. Pretty heavy stuff that involves kidnapping, torture, death threats, rape, and forced military service.
In my immigration practice in Alexandria, I don't see much of these types of cases. Working only 2 days a week doesn't afford me the time and emotional energy it takes to successfully work with such complex clients. But I have worked with survivors of trauma before and though they have been my toughest cases, they were also hands-down the most rewarding. Not too many lawyers get to hear their clients thank them for saving their lives. I've been fortunate enough to hear that more than once.
So, it is out of pure selfishness that I've uprooted my family (both kids currently touched with a bout of Montezuma's Revenge) and come to Ecuador for the summer. Sure, Paul and I figured living down here for three months would be a cool adventure and hopefully the kids would get something neat out of it that they may remember when they're older. Sure we wanted to see if Ecuador really is this amazing place that we've read about. And sure, we want to check out the Galapagos Islands with all its natural splendor. But a big part of the decision to come here was for me to get to work with refugees and to again get that reward that comes with being able to give something truly valuable to someone who truly needs it.
My first week here was spent in training. I'm the only actual lawyer here. The other Volunteer Legal Assistants, as we're called, are law students and other people with an interest in refugees and human rights, because come on, how many lawyers can just pack up and leave for 3 months? I got three case assignments today and will find out more about them next week. Though last Monday I was somewhat regretting my decision to sign up to work 40 hours a week (without pay!) while Paul and the kids frolicked around Quito, I'm getting more excited about what's to come.
So in all the fun and games that Paul describes he and the kids engaging in, it's easy to bypass the reason that we're here. I'm volunteering with a truly amazing organization called Asylum Access. This non-profit, non-governmental organization provides free legal services to refugees around the world. They opened an office here in Quito in November and I'm part of a second wave of volunteers to pass through.
According to the UN definition, a 'refugee' is a person who owing to a well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group, or political opinion, is outside the country of their nationality, and is unable to or, owing to such fear, is unwilling to avail him/herself of the protection of that country. As I may have mentioned before, Ecuador has approximately 250,000 refugees from neighboring Colombia, due to over 40 years of an internal armed conflict. Pretty heavy stuff that involves kidnapping, torture, death threats, rape, and forced military service.
In my immigration practice in Alexandria, I don't see much of these types of cases. Working only 2 days a week doesn't afford me the time and emotional energy it takes to successfully work with such complex clients. But I have worked with survivors of trauma before and though they have been my toughest cases, they were also hands-down the most rewarding. Not too many lawyers get to hear their clients thank them for saving their lives. I've been fortunate enough to hear that more than once.
So, it is out of pure selfishness that I've uprooted my family (both kids currently touched with a bout of Montezuma's Revenge) and come to Ecuador for the summer. Sure, Paul and I figured living down here for three months would be a cool adventure and hopefully the kids would get something neat out of it that they may remember when they're older. Sure we wanted to see if Ecuador really is this amazing place that we've read about. And sure, we want to check out the Galapagos Islands with all its natural splendor. But a big part of the decision to come here was for me to get to work with refugees and to again get that reward that comes with being able to give something truly valuable to someone who truly needs it.
My first week here was spent in training. I'm the only actual lawyer here. The other Volunteer Legal Assistants, as we're called, are law students and other people with an interest in refugees and human rights, because come on, how many lawyers can just pack up and leave for 3 months? I got three case assignments today and will find out more about them next week. Though last Monday I was somewhat regretting my decision to sign up to work 40 hours a week (without pay!) while Paul and the kids frolicked around Quito, I'm getting more excited about what's to come.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
The Ambassador of Peace
After spending Tuesday at the snake museum and in the park and Wednesday in the park, the plan for today was to go swimming. Our apartment complex has an indoor pool, but a month ago the roof fell in on it. The roof has since been repaired, but the pool hasn't been refilled. This is a big time drag to Rebecca, Maya, Jonah and especially me. All spring we've been telling the kids that our apartment in Ecuador has a pool and we can go swimming every day. Now we have to tell them that we can't. Plus, having a pool has been a big part of me believing that attending to the both of them all summer won't be as hard as it sounds. And here I am without a pool.
Even if the pool was filled, it's only open on Thursday and Fridays from 4 until 8 and Saturday from 1 until 8. We didn't know until we got here that it had such limited hours. So, this has been an adjustment we've had to consider - stay tuned about that.
Anyway, the guidebook we have indicates that there are two public pools in Quito - at intersections that are both fairly close to our apartment - but does not provide addresses. After lunch today, Maya, Jonah and I set out to find the closer of the two.
The taxi dropped us off at the intersection where the book indicates the pool is located. No sign of a pool. The fact that all the signs are in Spanish doesn't help. There were two guys in suits standing in front of a gated building, so I approached them and in my elementary Spanish asked about the location of the pool. They pointed me down the street.
We walked down this sleepy little street to a dead end. No sign of a pool.
There were a couple of kids on bikes and I asked them about the pool. They immediately set off up the street and told us to follow. The kids take us back past the suits, a little further up, and stop in front of a guy sitting on the curb. I asked him about the pool. He points over his shoulder and sure enough, there's a sign that says "piscina" (that means pool in Spanish. Before I asked the kids about the pool, I asked a security guard that we saw and he thought I said "oficina" - which, you guessed it, means office. After we got it sorted out that I meant pool - he said a bunch of stuff I couldn't understand. I told him this a few times and eventually he just got tired of me and waved me away. I don't blame him. I was getting tired of him too. How many times can you tell a guy to slow down and he not understand?)
So, finally, we located the building housing the pool. It was closed (if the guide book didn't provide an address you can be sure it didn't provide a phone number to call ahead). I'm not sure this pool is ever going to be open from the way it looked - weeds growing through the fence, five gallon paint buckets around, dirty windows. The kids were disappointed. We walked back to the corner where we started and the suits come over, asked what happened, and begin telling me about other pools in Quito. I pull out my map and they show me where we are (which I already knew) and where the pools are (one pool was the other that the guide book mentions.) The second pool the suits mention happens to be on Avenida Rio Coca, which is the cross street we live on. Next thing I know, they are inviting me into their SUV (spotless outside and in, leather interior, fancy schmanzy) to drive us to the pool I asked them if they needed to be at work, but they said it was okay. So, we get in drive off. In a moment, one of the guys' phone rings.
We head back to the building where they were stationed, and wait. One guy is doing most of the talking and is asking me what we are doing in Ecuador. When I tell him about Rebecca, he begins asking about who she is working for, what she is doing, etc. etc. Very interested. Finally, some fancy woman comes out. The guy gets out, gives her a kiss on the cheek, and escorts her to the back seat of the truck - next to us. She looks us over and we set off again.
She and the guy are chatting - I only caught bits of it - I can't figure out who she is - as we drive to the pool. We get there, I thank them as we get out, shake hands, and the guy hands me his business card before they drive away. The card says "Vicepresidencia de la Republica, Galo Cevallos Manchero" Whoa! Did I just get driven to the pool by the Ecuadorian equivalent of Dick Cheney?
No time to ponder that question. The kids are ready to swim. It cost $7.50 for us to swim and after buying groceries in the morning and swim caps for all of us (which is required to swim in any public pool in Ecuador) that was exactly all the money that I had in my wallet, so we got lucky again.
The pool was great. It was maybe 25 meters long (that's about 25 yards. 1 meter = 1.09 yards) by 10 meters wide, heated, and just deep enough so that Jonah could stand and have his head above water. The kids had a blast and, I have to say, looked damn cute in their swim caps. But sorry, no pics. Our camera still isn't talking to our computer.
During the course of our frolicking, a swim lesson was going on with about six kids aged a little younger than Maya. About halfway through, I pulled out the water pistols I brought from home for Maya and Jonah to play with when in the pool. Of course, they are shooting me, each other and everything else in sight. The other kids, their parents and teacher noticed. It didn't occur to me until I did it that unless you live under a rock you have to know about the American gun culture - and here it is on display in your pool. Oh well. Stereotypes need to originate somewhere. When I told her, Rebecca called me the Ambassador of Peace.
After our swim we had to walk home because I'd spent all our money. It wasn't far. And Maya and Jonah actually made it all the way without asking me to pick them up. We picked some flowers on the way home to prove that Americans really can be a sensitive, passive people.
By the way, if you google Galo Cevallos Manchero, and speak Spanish, you will read that he is not the vice president of Ecuador. He works as an engineer in the Secretary General's office of the Office of the Vice President of Ecuador. Basically, he's a civil servant, just like me.
Even if the pool was filled, it's only open on Thursday and Fridays from 4 until 8 and Saturday from 1 until 8. We didn't know until we got here that it had such limited hours. So, this has been an adjustment we've had to consider - stay tuned about that.
Anyway, the guidebook we have indicates that there are two public pools in Quito - at intersections that are both fairly close to our apartment - but does not provide addresses. After lunch today, Maya, Jonah and I set out to find the closer of the two.
The taxi dropped us off at the intersection where the book indicates the pool is located. No sign of a pool. The fact that all the signs are in Spanish doesn't help. There were two guys in suits standing in front of a gated building, so I approached them and in my elementary Spanish asked about the location of the pool. They pointed me down the street.
We walked down this sleepy little street to a dead end. No sign of a pool.
There were a couple of kids on bikes and I asked them about the pool. They immediately set off up the street and told us to follow. The kids take us back past the suits, a little further up, and stop in front of a guy sitting on the curb. I asked him about the pool. He points over his shoulder and sure enough, there's a sign that says "piscina" (that means pool in Spanish. Before I asked the kids about the pool, I asked a security guard that we saw and he thought I said "oficina" - which, you guessed it, means office. After we got it sorted out that I meant pool - he said a bunch of stuff I couldn't understand. I told him this a few times and eventually he just got tired of me and waved me away. I don't blame him. I was getting tired of him too. How many times can you tell a guy to slow down and he not understand?)
So, finally, we located the building housing the pool. It was closed (if the guide book didn't provide an address you can be sure it didn't provide a phone number to call ahead). I'm not sure this pool is ever going to be open from the way it looked - weeds growing through the fence, five gallon paint buckets around, dirty windows. The kids were disappointed. We walked back to the corner where we started and the suits come over, asked what happened, and begin telling me about other pools in Quito. I pull out my map and they show me where we are (which I already knew) and where the pools are (one pool was the other that the guide book mentions.) The second pool the suits mention happens to be on Avenida Rio Coca, which is the cross street we live on. Next thing I know, they are inviting me into their SUV (spotless outside and in, leather interior, fancy schmanzy) to drive us to the pool I asked them if they needed to be at work, but they said it was okay. So, we get in drive off. In a moment, one of the guys' phone rings.
We head back to the building where they were stationed, and wait. One guy is doing most of the talking and is asking me what we are doing in Ecuador. When I tell him about Rebecca, he begins asking about who she is working for, what she is doing, etc. etc. Very interested. Finally, some fancy woman comes out. The guy gets out, gives her a kiss on the cheek, and escorts her to the back seat of the truck - next to us. She looks us over and we set off again.
She and the guy are chatting - I only caught bits of it - I can't figure out who she is - as we drive to the pool. We get there, I thank them as we get out, shake hands, and the guy hands me his business card before they drive away. The card says "Vicepresidencia de la Republica, Galo Cevallos Manchero" Whoa! Did I just get driven to the pool by the Ecuadorian equivalent of Dick Cheney?
No time to ponder that question. The kids are ready to swim. It cost $7.50 for us to swim and after buying groceries in the morning and swim caps for all of us (which is required to swim in any public pool in Ecuador) that was exactly all the money that I had in my wallet, so we got lucky again.
The pool was great. It was maybe 25 meters long (that's about 25 yards. 1 meter = 1.09 yards) by 10 meters wide, heated, and just deep enough so that Jonah could stand and have his head above water. The kids had a blast and, I have to say, looked damn cute in their swim caps. But sorry, no pics. Our camera still isn't talking to our computer.
During the course of our frolicking, a swim lesson was going on with about six kids aged a little younger than Maya. About halfway through, I pulled out the water pistols I brought from home for Maya and Jonah to play with when in the pool. Of course, they are shooting me, each other and everything else in sight. The other kids, their parents and teacher noticed. It didn't occur to me until I did it that unless you live under a rock you have to know about the American gun culture - and here it is on display in your pool. Oh well. Stereotypes need to originate somewhere. When I told her, Rebecca called me the Ambassador of Peace.
After our swim we had to walk home because I'd spent all our money. It wasn't far. And Maya and Jonah actually made it all the way without asking me to pick them up. We picked some flowers on the way home to prove that Americans really can be a sensitive, passive people.
By the way, if you google Galo Cevallos Manchero, and speak Spanish, you will read that he is not the vice president of Ecuador. He works as an engineer in the Secretary General's office of the Office of the Vice President of Ecuador. Basically, he's a civil servant, just like me.
Pulling the Weeds
Here is a poem that I wrote:
Pulling the Weeds
Sitting in the grass in the Parque Carolina
Maya and Jonah are nearby, playing a variation of a game held over from home.
It involves picking dandelions and clover, making a pile, and calling it a pie.
My own thoughts, I discover, are absent of any idea that
I need to be
somewhere else, or
I have to do
anything different.
It's like I've hired a gardener for my head.
Pulling the Weeds
Sitting in the grass in the Parque Carolina
Maya and Jonah are nearby, playing a variation of a game held over from home.
It involves picking dandelions and clover, making a pile, and calling it a pie.
My own thoughts, I discover, are absent of any idea that
I need to be
somewhere else, or
I have to do
anything different.
It's like I've hired a gardener for my head.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Yes, I'm an attorney, but . . .
Is it safe? Is it safe? Is it safe? I heard this from a lot of people when we told them of our plans to come to Quito for the summer. Well, mostly I remember my folks harping on the fact, but I'm sure at least one other person must have asked. My reaction was, I live and work in one of the most likely cities in the world to be targeted with a September 11th type attack, how safe is that? Most folks we mentioned Ecuador to weren't even sure where it was, and forget about Quito. I've got to think this makes us pretty safe from a terrorist strike. Just to be safe though, I just knocked on wood (i.e., my head).
The security of the building was one of the key selling points used by our landlord for our apartment. Well, that and the pool, but that is a subject for another day. In fact, of the dozens of websites that we surfed online when looking for a place to stay, I imagine that the only ones that failed to mention the security features we would enjoy, were the ones that didn't have any security features to offer.
To get to our apartment on the sixth floor, we need to use a key to get through the gate to the complex from the street. Then we walk by a security guard. We need a key to get into Block 12 (our cell block). Then we walk by a guard. Before you can use the key to open the door to our apartment you have to use a key to open the steel gate that fronts the door (picture the door to a jail cell). Only then can you pass the threshold to this 600 sq. foot paradise. But, if you are here to steal our cash, be prepared to search hard. I have divided it into three piles and hidden it in three different places in the apartment. Even I can't find them.
To get into our house in Alexandria you need to get past the front door, of which the lock on the door knob doesn't always stay locked. And this is in a place where, since the year 2000 when we moved in, we know for a fact that there have been three murders within a 100 yards of the place. And we keep our cash, often a bundle because many of Rebecca's clients pay her in cash, in a place where you don't even need to come all the way into the house to steal it. And I occasionally walk home late at night from the metro. I doubt that I will walk anywhere in Quito after dark.
So really, it is safer for me to be in Quito than it is in Alexandria.
I think part of my comfort with a lack of security in Alexandria is the "it won't happen to me" attitude. I know what can happen walking home late from the metro but it won't happen to me because I've done it before and it's been fine. I've never done it before in Quito, so until I am forced to do it that first time and it's fine, it's not something I will do.
The other thing that I attribute my lack of security comfort level in Alexandria to is my philosophy that you don't shit in the same pot that you eat from. In other words, I trust the punks in our neighborhood not to fuck with me because I see them every day; I don't call the cops on them when they are smoking joints in the alley behind my house; I don't hassle them when they are otherwise goofing around in the park, and I'm out there with Maya and Jonah; and I feel like me and my family are a recognized part of the neighborhood. Some punk who decided to hassle us by breaking and entering, messing with my car, coming in my backyard, etc, even if I didn't know it was him, could suffer from my potential attitude change. You leave me alone and I'll leave you alone. Everybody understands that and it works out well for all of us.
I'm not part of the neighborhood here. I n fact, with my bald, white head, American clothes and pathetic Spanish, I stand out like a goth in the front row of a Bob Dylan concert. As a middle class Anglo, I've only felt more like a minority when I was in Hong Kong. (Talk about short people. Not only was I the only white person walking around Broadcast Drive, I was about a foot taller than everyone else!) Not that I've felt targeted because of the fact of my obvious differentness, I just think it makes me more wary. I'm not going to leave my backpack over there while I walk over here for a moment like I would do in my 'hood.
So, not only am I safer in Quito, but my property is as well.
The other safety issue that Rebecca and I have discussed is the children's safety. To put it bluntly, this is not a safe place for children by American standards. Any analysis of kid safety, I think, has to start with the playground. I've already spoken to this in some of my earlier blogs. But let me review.
Defined play areas surrounding "playground equipment" (and I use that term loosely) don't exist. As I've mentioned in reference to the old airplane that is currently fenced off, many slides that are not fenced off are missing important parts and instead have jagged, rusty metal edges. As you can see from this photo, even Rebecca was frightened.
The slides also very frequently have concrete blocks for a landing pad. Concrete blocks are also apparently deemed to be a suitable medium under the various climbing apparatus that abound on the playgrounds we've frequented, around swings, and in any other place inviting to children.
Today in Parque Carolina, Maya and Jonah discovered a pile of rocks that is actually meant for children to climb on. Here is a picture of Maya almost at the top. [NOTE - Sorry, technical difficulties uploading pictures from the camera to the computer. Picture will be posted as soon as my IT gal sorts it out]. She was too timid to make it to the top today, but I have no doubt that it won't be long before she summits. And what the hell, the fall won't be that much more painful from up there than it would be from where she is in the picture. Of course, at the base of the pile of rocks - concrete blocks!
Obviously, personal or corporate liability does not exist. Or at least, is not of great concern. Rebecca and I, being the attuned attorneys we are, also noticed this when the boy almost drowned the other day. The people running the boat operation, and presumably, holding some responsibility for what goes on in the lake, didn't give a shit.
Caveat emptor when it comes to crossing the street. We've been told by locals that pedestrians do not have the right of way, even when the little person is blinking green.
All this definitely keeps you on your toes.
I've been reading a book called "A Survival Kit for Overseas Living". I have the second edition - from1984. It's one of those books I don't even know where I got it, but I've been dragging it around with me for a dozen years or more. [Note: Mom, I had this book before I met Rebecca.] This trip seemed like a good opportunity to finally read it. One of its themes is, essentially, that I (as an American) will enjoy my trip more if I understand the characteristics and beliefs of people in my culture and the characteristics and beliefs of the people in the culture to which I am headed. The author suggests not to compare the two to determine which is better, but to compare to understand why there are similarities and differences. That is about as far as I have gotten in the book, but I suspect that the author will suggest that one way to apply this understanding is to recognize where your own attitudes and behaviors could be adjusted or modified to make yourself more adaptable to the culture shock.
So, if I were to apply my understanding of the differences between Ecuadorian playgrounds with those at home, and modify my behavior to make the culture shock less shocking, I might put a package or two of Tums in the backpack whenever we ventured to the park.
Though, I have to say, I find the idea of people taking responsibility for their own actions or failure to act, and not looking to blame someone else with a lawsuit, refreshing. Of course, my bread and butter is taxes, not personal liability lawsuits.
The security of the building was one of the key selling points used by our landlord for our apartment. Well, that and the pool, but that is a subject for another day. In fact, of the dozens of websites that we surfed online when looking for a place to stay, I imagine that the only ones that failed to mention the security features we would enjoy, were the ones that didn't have any security features to offer.
To get to our apartment on the sixth floor, we need to use a key to get through the gate to the complex from the street. Then we walk by a security guard. We need a key to get into Block 12 (our cell block). Then we walk by a guard. Before you can use the key to open the door to our apartment you have to use a key to open the steel gate that fronts the door (picture the door to a jail cell). Only then can you pass the threshold to this 600 sq. foot paradise. But, if you are here to steal our cash, be prepared to search hard. I have divided it into three piles and hidden it in three different places in the apartment. Even I can't find them.
To get into our house in Alexandria you need to get past the front door, of which the lock on the door knob doesn't always stay locked. And this is in a place where, since the year 2000 when we moved in, we know for a fact that there have been three murders within a 100 yards of the place. And we keep our cash, often a bundle because many of Rebecca's clients pay her in cash, in a place where you don't even need to come all the way into the house to steal it. And I occasionally walk home late at night from the metro. I doubt that I will walk anywhere in Quito after dark.
So really, it is safer for me to be in Quito than it is in Alexandria.
I think part of my comfort with a lack of security in Alexandria is the "it won't happen to me" attitude. I know what can happen walking home late from the metro but it won't happen to me because I've done it before and it's been fine. I've never done it before in Quito, so until I am forced to do it that first time and it's fine, it's not something I will do.
The other thing that I attribute my lack of security comfort level in Alexandria to is my philosophy that you don't shit in the same pot that you eat from. In other words, I trust the punks in our neighborhood not to fuck with me because I see them every day; I don't call the cops on them when they are smoking joints in the alley behind my house; I don't hassle them when they are otherwise goofing around in the park, and I'm out there with Maya and Jonah; and I feel like me and my family are a recognized part of the neighborhood. Some punk who decided to hassle us by breaking and entering, messing with my car, coming in my backyard, etc, even if I didn't know it was him, could suffer from my potential attitude change. You leave me alone and I'll leave you alone. Everybody understands that and it works out well for all of us.
I'm not part of the neighborhood here. I n fact, with my bald, white head, American clothes and pathetic Spanish, I stand out like a goth in the front row of a Bob Dylan concert. As a middle class Anglo, I've only felt more like a minority when I was in Hong Kong. (Talk about short people. Not only was I the only white person walking around Broadcast Drive, I was about a foot taller than everyone else!) Not that I've felt targeted because of the fact of my obvious differentness, I just think it makes me more wary. I'm not going to leave my backpack over there while I walk over here for a moment like I would do in my 'hood.
So, not only am I safer in Quito, but my property is as well.
The other safety issue that Rebecca and I have discussed is the children's safety. To put it bluntly, this is not a safe place for children by American standards. Any analysis of kid safety, I think, has to start with the playground. I've already spoken to this in some of my earlier blogs. But let me review.
Defined play areas surrounding "playground equipment" (and I use that term loosely) don't exist. As I've mentioned in reference to the old airplane that is currently fenced off, many slides that are not fenced off are missing important parts and instead have jagged, rusty metal edges. As you can see from this photo, even Rebecca was frightened.
The slides also very frequently have concrete blocks for a landing pad. Concrete blocks are also apparently deemed to be a suitable medium under the various climbing apparatus that abound on the playgrounds we've frequented, around swings, and in any other place inviting to children.Today in Parque Carolina, Maya and Jonah discovered a pile of rocks that is actually meant for children to climb on. Here is a picture of Maya almost at the top. [NOTE - Sorry, technical difficulties uploading pictures from the camera to the computer. Picture will be posted as soon as my IT gal sorts it out]. She was too timid to make it to the top today, but I have no doubt that it won't be long before she summits. And what the hell, the fall won't be that much more painful from up there than it would be from where she is in the picture. Of course, at the base of the pile of rocks - concrete blocks!
Obviously, personal or corporate liability does not exist. Or at least, is not of great concern. Rebecca and I, being the attuned attorneys we are, also noticed this when the boy almost drowned the other day. The people running the boat operation, and presumably, holding some responsibility for what goes on in the lake, didn't give a shit.
Caveat emptor when it comes to crossing the street. We've been told by locals that pedestrians do not have the right of way, even when the little person is blinking green.
All this definitely keeps you on your toes.
I've been reading a book called "A Survival Kit for Overseas Living". I have the second edition - from1984. It's one of those books I don't even know where I got it, but I've been dragging it around with me for a dozen years or more. [Note: Mom, I had this book before I met Rebecca.] This trip seemed like a good opportunity to finally read it. One of its themes is, essentially, that I (as an American) will enjoy my trip more if I understand the characteristics and beliefs of people in my culture and the characteristics and beliefs of the people in the culture to which I am headed. The author suggests not to compare the two to determine which is better, but to compare to understand why there are similarities and differences. That is about as far as I have gotten in the book, but I suspect that the author will suggest that one way to apply this understanding is to recognize where your own attitudes and behaviors could be adjusted or modified to make yourself more adaptable to the culture shock.
So, if I were to apply my understanding of the differences between Ecuadorian playgrounds with those at home, and modify my behavior to make the culture shock less shocking, I might put a package or two of Tums in the backpack whenever we ventured to the park.
Though, I have to say, I find the idea of people taking responsibility for their own actions or failure to act, and not looking to blame someone else with a lawsuit, refreshing. Of course, my bread and butter is taxes, not personal liability lawsuits.
Monday, May 19, 2008
I feel like SpongeBob, and not in a good way
I'm dealing with a bit of a bug in my tummy today so won't say much. I'm achy, feverish, nauseous and just plain cranky. At least I know it's not typhoid fever, right? hopefully a dozen hours of sleep will cure me because Rebecca's work day tomorrow starts at 10 a.m. and ends at 5 p.m. It's show time for me with the kids. Rebecca had a bit of an intro to her office today - from 2 until 5 (didn't get home until after 6 though). I confess, I had to turn on SpongeBob Squarepants at around 5 to pacify the kids (and so I could lay down). At least it was in Spanish. We learned how to say best day ever. Es mejor dia ha! Spongebob was singing it at the end of the show. But I'll be damned if I can tell why. To me it looked like he was getting abused all show, having things fall on him, getting thrown out of concerts, and rolled up in big balls of garbage. That's kind of the way I feel.
A Tranquil Sunday
Paul was too tired to write last night, so I [Rebecca] am just putting some pictures up of our day yesterday. Your regular blogger will return later.
The Village of Guapulo, a tiny village hanging onto the side of the mountain.
This is what I imagined our life in Ecuador to look like - tranquil and rustic - instead of the urban concrete mass where we are.
Pictures by Maya:
A storm drain
Maya's shadow
A family portrait, by Maya.
"Mommy, a knight!"
A beautifully decorated chimney in Guapulo.
A taxi ride. I have to get used to not strapping the kids in, or myself either.
Our lunch in El Ejido park: chicken on a stick.
The kids had fun driving this car around the park.
A fruit stand selling freshly-squeezed lemonade, fruit salad, and slices of watermelon.
The Village of Guapulo, a tiny village hanging onto the side of the mountain.This is what I imagined our life in Ecuador to look like - tranquil and rustic - instead of the urban concrete mass where we are.
Pictures by Maya:
A storm drain
Maya's shadow
A family portrait, by Maya.
"Mommy, a knight!"
A beautifully decorated chimney in Guapulo.
A taxi ride. I have to get used to not strapping the kids in, or myself either.
Our lunch in El Ejido park: chicken on a stick.
The kids had fun driving this car around the park.
A fruit stand selling freshly-squeezed lemonade, fruit salad, and slices of watermelon.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
We Could Be Heroes
It was mostly wet and rainy today. At around 10 a.m., in between downpours, we took the Ecovia bus line the few stops from our apartment building to Parque Carolina - Quito's Central Park. The Ecovia is a north-south bus line that uses low-emissions buses. Its northern terminus is near our building and it runs for 9 km (that's nearly 6 miles for you metric system novices) to the Old Town in the south of the city. I think we will be riding it quite a bit. Though, Rebecca will be taking a different bus line (called the Trole) to work. The Trole is the same ecologically friendly idea as the Ecovia, but is electric, and runs a different north-south route. Anyway, because they weren't wet enough when we got to the park, Maya and Jonah played in the fountains.
After the fountains, we watched some soccer games that were being played on these cute little mini-fields. The fields in this part of the park were made of asphalt, and although it wasn't raining at the time, it was wet and the players were sliding all over. But they also exhibited some nice skills. It was fun to watch. I showed my soccer mettle a few times, using my feet to stop balls hit out of play. That's pretty much as close as I've come to playing organized soccer. It felt good.
We then walked to what passes, I guess, for a playground. It
was a bunch of rusty old farm and construction vehicles and some busted up rides that must have failed safety inspection at the fair. Imagine the airplane/helicopter/motorcyle/car ride that you'd see at a boardwalk and put a toddler on that goes around a dozen times sitting on the ground in the grass with some guy pushing it like it was a merry-go-round. Then imagine rust and broken pieces. The idea for this playground may have come from a Stephen King novel. I thought we might have taken a picture of the merry-go-round, but we didn't, so you get a picture of Maya and Jonah on the bucket loader. In this part of the park there is also a plane, maybe a 747 or a 727 or even a 707, but it's a real plane, sitting in the park with a ladder going up to the rear entrance and a slide coming out of the door where a passenger would normally board. The slide is missing a large piece in the middle, however, so someone put a fence around the plane. You just can't get to it. It actually looks like it would be quite a bit of fun (who knows what's inside) if it wasn't a guaranteed trip to the emergency room.Around this time it started raining cats and dogs, so we hit a nearby restaurant for lunch. Maya had an enormous bowl of chicken soup. It came with a chicken leg sticking out of it. She didn't eat that part.
Jonah had his usual, white rice with beans. Here's a picture of him chowing down. Rebecca ordered something that she didn't really know what it was, even after the waiter explained it to her. I guess she doesn't talk to her clien
ts much about food. But it turned out she liked it a lot. I had a heaping portion of rice with shrimp and calamari. Like a paella. It was good, but so enormous that a bunch of it is sitting in my refrigerator right now.I ordered a cafe to drink and got a cup of hot water, a spoon, a jar of instant Nescafe, and a big bowl of granulated sugar. All that for one dollar. The beers were 80 cents and would have required less work. If only I had known!
After we ate and the rain let up we walked further into the park. Maya and Jonah held
hands. It was cute. Rebecca took a picture.After a bit of a walk, we got to the lake. Yes, this park has a lake. It's actually more of a channel that goes around a couple of islands. As we are walking around the lake and debating whether to take one of the pedal boats out, Jonah noticed that on the far side of the channel a boat was being pushed away from its moorings. He said something, and when we looked, we noticed some splashing around behind the boat. At first I thought it was a worker pushing the boat to the dock for a customer. Strange way to get the boats to where they need to be, but whatever, it's Ecuador. But Rebecca and I both noticed that the splashing was too erratic. It looked more like someone was struggling to swim than actually swimming. Sure enough, we see this young boy break the surface and it sure doesn't look like he is swimming/having fun or whatever. The banks of the channel were sloped and he must have gotten too close to the edge. With everything being slick from the rain, he must have slid right in. When he went under again, Rebecca yelled "Ayuda!" That means help in Spanish.
That got people's attention, no one seemed to notice before, and a woman standing nearer the bank had the guy she was with jump in, swim the ten or fifteen yards across the channel and pull the kid out of the water. It turned out this woman had two young boys of her own and actually thought one of them had fallen in. Anyway, this guy (we'll call him a hero because it sure looked to me like the kid would have drowned if this guy didn't jump in and pull him out) swam the boy over to the bank nearer to us, hoisted him up and the poor kid is on the verge of tears, standing there dripping wet. People start asking him where are his parents, who is he with, is he okay, etc. I don't speak Spanish very well, but even I could tell he was pretty mum about everything. He said he didn't have a mom or a dad. It dawned on me this was a street kid. He was about seven, I would say. There was some clown standing nearby (I mean that literally, this guy was dressed like a clown and performing tricks for passerby. We only managed to avoid him when he approached us because Maya looked at him like he was crazy) and the clown gave the kid some gum or something and we all just kind of stood around while the sopping wet kid walked away. I said to Rebecca, "Great, we saved him from drowning so he could die of pneumonia."
About ten minutes later, Rebecca and Maya see this kid shivering uncontrollably. Rebecca peels off his shirt and Maya takes off her jacket for him to wear. But it's starting to rain cats and dogs again and clearly, this gesture is not going to be enough. Working with the couple who pulled him out of the water, we decide they will take him to a nearby restaurant for food and to get warm and out of the rain, and we will go buy the kid some clothes.
So, that's what we did. I took Maya and Jonah back to our apartment and Rebecca hit a discount clothes store and purchased pants, socks, underwear, a shirt and a jacket for the kid. The other couple managed to figure out that the kid lives with his sister in Pinchincha, which is either another town, or another part of Quito. Either way, it's far from where he was, all alone. The other couple gave the kid some money for bus fare and we sent him on his way.
Despite everyone's efforts, it somehow feels like empty promises. This kid caught a break today, but I feel doubtful that further breaks are in his future. Rumor has it that after the hero pulled the kid out of the drink, the boat workers (who did nothing when Rebecca yelled for help) said stuff like, "Ah, he's just a no good street kid, etc, etc." Granted, I am sure they see and deal with kids like this more than we do. They see the begging, conniving, scheming side that is necessary for these kids to survive day to day. But attitudes like theirs don't leave you with a warm and fuzzy feeling for this kid's future. Hell, maybe they even think the kid fell in the water on purpose!
Maya and Jonah seemed cognizant of what was going on and behaved very respectfully and quietly while decisions were being made, rather than behaving in their usual way of hanging on your leg and interrupting you fourteen times while you tried to complete a grown-up sentence with someone. Maya gave up her jacket with no questions asked. She did ask questions about where was his mommy, where does he live, and Rebecca and I were honest with her. We tried to make her understand how lucky we are to have the things we do, to have all the good fortune that we do and to have all the people who love us that we do. Hopefully, it's something that she remembers.
Really, it's probably more something that I need to remember. I need to set the example of our good fortune when Maya won't pick up the couch pillows from the floor or when Jonah keeps talking while I'm trying to read him a book. It's easy to get caught up in the ultimate objective, cleaning the place up, or getting the kid to bed, but I guess, the ultimate objective is really letting this little person know that I love them. And please clean up the damn living room! And please go to sleep!
Anyway, that was our day. While posting the picture of Maya and Jonah holding hands, I found a video of the decrepit boardwalk rides (and my kids on it!) Here it is.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Our Arrival and First Day
Finally, the big day, Thursday, May 15th arrived!
We arrived in 
Anyway, we arrived at 
and also some credit card information, before it was sorted out. Meanwhile, the kids had fun playing with Jonah’s Trunki suitcase and watching a bird fly back and forth in the terminal. 
After Rebecca handled the airline on the boarding pass, she scored us some meal vouchers due to the mechanical delay and we dined in style (I mean, for free) at Cosi. I bring my lunch to work with me everyday (remember, I’m a cheap one) but apparently, Cosi is a well-known sandwich shop. Try the pizza, it was free.
Both kids fell asleep on the flight to
The flight from
Carmen, the woman we are renting the apartment from, met us at the airport. 
Since we had never met her before, she had a sign that said Rebecca Eichler. I forgot to ask Rebecca if that made her feel important. We arrived at the apartment building – called the Torres 
[Here's our spacious living room.]
Carmen came by this morning and showed us around the neighborhood. Walking around the gated compound confirmed our suspicions that our apartment building is not in the fanciest part of town. But, there is a playground on the premises with an old school see-saw where Maya got her first Ecuador-bruise,
a basketball court with a shortened hoop that Jonah was real excited about (as soon as he saw it he wanted to play), a large, flat paved area for scooter-riding, and all the shopping amenities one could want – a chicken place that has a gumball machine (as an example of the cheaper cost of living, TWO gumballs cost a dime), an ice cream place, and a liquor store. I mean, really, it’s like a resort. The kids and I never need to leave the complex.
After lunch at the chicken place (another example of the cost of living – the whole chicken with papas (that means potatoes) and rice and soup for less than 10 bucks) Carmen took us for a ride by some of the sights. We drove by Parque Carolina, which is exactly like Central Park Quito, don’t go there after dark. It’s close by our apartment, has lots of trails and ballfields and a lake. Conveniently, Maya and Jonah both fell asleep as we drove past the park, so Carmen took us into the Old Town where we did a drive-by of many of the churches, plazas and stores that the Spanish Conquistadores had built. I distinctly recall seeing a KFC and a laundromat. No Starbucks though. Those must have been built during the
We then went to Parque Metropolitano, which is also near our apartment. Conveniently again, Maya and Jonah both woke up, so we were able to get out and play around a little bit. This park has a couple of playgrounds where the swinging and climbing things are all made out of wood, lots of soccer fields, lots of trees and walking trails, and a juice and ice cream place that also sells cocunuts. The park is on a hill in a eucalyptus forest in the east of the city (the city runs
north-south on a ridge with mountains and volcanoes in the west and hills and valleys in the east) and commands stunning views of the city and mountains. It wasn’t a particularly clear day, but was still breath-taking. Well, that may have been the altitude - we are around 10,000 feet up. Anyway, I picture myself carrying Maya and Jonah around this park quite 
a bit this summer.
On our way back to the apartment, we asked Maya and Jonah how they liked Ecuador so far (good!) and what they liked about it. Maya said she liked the playground. Jonah said he liked going to sleep.
When we got back to the apartment around 4 p.m., I started this blog entry and Rebecca started dinner. Maya and Jonah were doing something that required Jonah to run around naked and everything seemed to be fine. Next thing, Maya informs us that she’s locked Jonah in his room. We have a key to the apartment and the various gates around the place, but not to the bedrooms. So, Jonah is in there crying, our omelet is burning and we are all kind of standing around wondering what to do. That’s when the leader in me took over. After calmly asking Jonah to move away from the door, I smashed it down with my foot. Right away, before she even comforts Jonah, Rebecca has me sit down on the couch, gets me a beer and starts rubbing my shoulders. She hadn’t seen that animal side of me in awhile, I guess. So, even though we are going to be out a couple hundred bucks for a new door and installation, it was worth it. Plus, Jonah was freed. As he is apt to do, he recovered quickly - helping me dismantle the door handle before we sat down for our omelets and toast.
We duct-taped the rest of the doors so no one will get locked in anywhere again.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Sockarooni
A few weeks ago, Rebecca and I started devoting some time each night to packing our things for Ecuador
Rebecca spent many nights packing hers and the kids clothes, formulating a strategy for our checked and carry-on luggage, sorting the hundreds of plastic forks and spoons from our silverware drawer, and whipping-up our dwindling foodstuffs into meals that the kids would not eat. She also had to deal with her clients and organize her case files so that the attorney who is managing her cases this summer could just pick up the file and be off. Not to mention having to juggle two kids (Maya and Jonah) who could go from grown-up, independent, giggly-happy little love-muffins to whining, fighting, hold-me, hold-me monsters in as much time as it takes to blink.
My time was spent organizing our bookshelves so that they held only books; wondering how rocks got into the umbrella stand; sorting and culling toys from the various baskets, drawers, under couches and chairs, where we keep them; organizing the bar one bottle at a time, getting together boxes of stuff for good will; straightening our closets of junk that we can’t bear to part with; and wishing that I had a nickel for every pony-tail holder, barrette, and hair clip of Maya’s that I found. I’d be about forty bucks richer.
Friday, May 9, was my last day at work in anticipation of this past weekend and these last few days being last big push to get things done. On Saturday and Sunday folks kept asking me if it felt good to be done with work for the next few months, and truly, it didn’t. There was still so much to do at home that it wasn’t like we were on vacation – or whatever you want to call this adventure that we are going on. Carpets needed to be shampooed. Refrigerator’s needed to be emptied. Tubs needed to be scrubbed and medicine cabinets emptied. Our master bedroom dressers and closets needed to be emptied so our tenant had some space. The yard needed trimming and straightening. Clothes and sheets needed washing; and all the extra clothes, toys, foodstuffs, etc needed to be packed into boxes and brought to my in-laws house where we are storing them for the summer.
(I’m going to steal a journalistic technique here from Norman Chad, The Couch Slouch, who has a column run every Monday in The Washington Post Sports section; Column Intermission I. When I met Rebecca ten years ago, I was a briefs guy. Tighty-whities, as Rebecca calls them. After the stomach-clenching guffaws and withholding of sex each time I took my pants off in front of her, I was convinced that I really was a boxer-briefs kind of guy. Two weeks after the big change, I was rewarded for being so open-minded as to concede to her wishes. Two children later, I question my choice. Anyway, in emptying my dresser, I found a pair of tighty-whities that I haven’t worn in ten years! What the heck were they doing in there? If I had come across them at another time, I would have put them on for old-times sake and walked around the house wearing them for the rest of the day. But, as an indication of how stressed I am without even knowing it, the thought to put them on never even crossed my mind until I was laying awake in bed at 2 a.m. this morning.)
(Column Intermission II. This doesn’t make much sense to me, but we also brought our safe, which contains our valuables and keepsakes like birth certificates, social security cards, gold jewelry, and the condom from our wedding night, from a house that is going to be occupied all summer – our own – to a house that is going to be empty for most of the summer – my in-laws. Our homeowner’s insurance won’t cover items stolen from our house that we are renting, but will cover them if they are stolen from someone else’s house that is empty. Seems like a sensible way to do business, no?)
Ordinarily, my in-laws would be around to take the kids off our hands while we were doing all this, but they decided to book a three-week cruise to the
As I write this on Wednesday afternoon, less than 24-hours from our departure, Rebecca is at work trying to finish up some last minute thing that she isn’t telling me anything about except to mention that it is an “audit” (hopefully, not of the IRS variety!), and we are still either ignoring each other or making snappy comments at each other. It’s about a two or three-day running thing covering everything from how to trim the hedges to where to store the linens , but I think it came to a head yesterday evening as we were driving to my in-laws where we were staying for the night. Rebecca had asked me to empty the refrigerator. I grabbed the eggs, milk, yogurt and a few other things and put them in a box and off we went. As she’s driving she asks me if I grabbed the jar of pasta sauce. I remembered seeing it, a jar of Paul Newman’s Sockarooni sauce, half-full. It had a dumb catch-phrase on it, “An intimate companion your pasta will never forget”. Like pasta remembers anything. I left it in the fridge. This really bothered Rebecca. Somehow, it seemed, despite the house being so spotless, minimized and organized that we both mentioned having second thoughts about going to
In my time-worn style, I made sarcastic comments, intimated that I hoped that our lessor in
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Hurts So Good
We are going to be in Ecuador from May 15 until the end of August. When folks find out that Rebecca is actually working for Asylum Access as a volunteer (i.e., she is not getting paid) and that I am taking leave without pay from my job (and not working while in Ecuador. See prior posting titled “Getting Ready to Get Started” for details of what I will be doing in Ecuador, which details are too lengthy to summarize here), they wonder how we can swing this arrangement financially.
In order to understand, I need to take you back to the summer of 1982. It was the summer of parachute pants and John Cougar’s “American Fool “. Like many an adolescent (read, randy) American male, I wanted to take Diane up behind the shady trees, dribble off our Bobby Brooks and stand around naked and embarrassed. But since I couldn’t drive, didn’t know exactly where she lived anyway, and had absolutely no idea how to get her to take her clothes off or what to do once she did, I asked my Mom if she could take me to the record store so that I could buy the cassette tape. Then I could play the song over and over again on my home stereo system, which consisted of a single-speaker tape player/recorder.
Now, like most strip-mall towns of good reputation, Paramus, NJ in the early 1980’s had two music stores. The first, The Music Hut, was actually in Hackensack. The other, Sam Goody, was at the Bergen Mall. Typically, Sam Goody would charge $8.99 or $9.99 for the same cassette that you could get for $6.99 or $7.99 at The Music Hut. One day at the height of Cougarmania, it turns out that I’m with my Mom at the Bergen Mall and we stop in at Sam Goody’s. Not surprisingly, there are about 91 copies of American Fool in stock, retailing at $9.99! However, exhibiting early signs of the frugal shopper that I am, I refused to buy it at that price, instead, holding out for the cheaper version of the same thing at The Music Hut. However, shortly thereafter The Music Hut went out of business and I never did get a copy of American Fool.
You may be thinking, what is he talking about? But stay with me. Fast forward to the year 2000 and you will see why this little ditty about John Cougar makes sense. At some point early in our relationship (i.e., the year 2000), Rebecca decided we should buy a house instead of renting. I’m not even sure I had proposed to her yet, but whatever. We got pre-approved for a $300,000 mortgage. When we heard that we both laughed to each other. Clearly these people that wanted to give us this much money were not smart financial people. I had a $1,300 a week job and Rebecca was working at a non-profit, getting paid almost as much as you would find in loose change on the street during a good day. Buying a house for $300,000 would have meant having to ask our parents for money and maybe even having to get two jobs and missing the back-to-back Simpson’s episodes shown on Fox starting at 6 p.m. The latter was just out of the question.
Instead, we brought a much more affordable house in the wrong part of town, subsidized by a down payment from our parents, and contracted with my father-in-law to renovate it for free. The deal was home renovation in exchange for two grandchildren; which we have delivered. We are still waiting for him to make good on his bargain – but whatever. I don’t want to nitpick.
So, now you can see that being a cheap bastard has paid off! Buying a really cheap, small house like we did instead of buying a really expensive, small house like we could have was the right move. Our very affordable monthly mortgage payment left us lots of left over cash to bury in our backyard that we would otherwise have had to pay as interest to some nameless, faceless corporation. And that $9.99 that I didn’t spend on American Fool in 1982? It’s grown at a rate that you would not believe. It’s like $56,093.01 now.
Some of our other money-saving techniques include: eating dinner at least once a week at my in-laws; pirating music from friends rather than actually buying CD’s; trolling for free booze and other sundries on craigslist.org; and sending our children to a Co-op preschool.
On top of all that, when we contemplated going to Ecuador, we figured it would be easier to swing it financially if we were able to rent our house. As it turns out, the wrong part of town has actually turned into a pretty good and desirable part of town. So, asking market rent for a town house in our neighborhood, plus an additional hundred bucks or so to cover the included utilities and other expenses, would pay our mortgage, and hopefully, we hoped, our rent in Quito. We posted our place on Craigslist and in only a day or two, we got a response from the perfect tenant – a 50-something school teacher who will be coming to the area for the summer to visit with her sons, daughter-in-laws, and grandchildren. Think we need to worry about her trashing the place more than Maya and Jonah already do? And, to make it even cooler for me, the school teacher is married to an English professor at Montana State University who was a good friend and influence (of the drinking sort) on Richard Brautigan, my favorite author and poet, who writes great stuff like this:
Sexual Accident
The sexual accident
That turned out to be your wife,
The mother of your children
and the end of your life, is home
cooking dinner for all your friends.
So, when we get back on August 29, I can look forward to crapping on the same toilet as a man who once crapped on the same toilet as Richard Brautigan! Who wouldn’t want to come home to that?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
