May 11, 2010
So during the swearing in ceremony, we had 2 speeches from volunteers: one from NRC and one from Ag. In one of the speeches, Ross (the NRC representative) ended with a list of things he had learned thus far in training. I’ve decided in an effort reduce the amount of UPDATE YOUR BLOG emails I get from certain people (Mom and Sarah, I’m looking at you), to follow in Ross’s footsteps and every so often bring you a list of things I have learned or observations I have made that have stuck out for me. So without further adieu, I bring to you: Rachel’s Observations of Ecuador (I know, I know the title needs a little work, but titles have always been the hardest part for me. Well, titles and introductions if you want to get specific).
1. Not all blue and white UNIDOS buses stop in Cebadas. While this may mean little to you guys, let me tell you that it’s worth it to double check with the driver if the bus you’re boarding is going to be going all the way to your final destination. If you don’t, as I didn’t yesterday (5/7), you may be forced to wait in a deserted town for 30-45 minutes, only to be picked up by a completely full bus which leads me to…
2. Standing up in a bus isn’t that big of a deal, it’s when you are literally hanging out the door and watching the street speed by underneath when your palms start to sweat a little bit which doesn’t help the grip you’ve got on the only 4 open inches on the nearest handle.
3. Toilet paper doesn’t get flushed down the toilet here; instead it goes into the garbage can right next to the toilet. The sewage system here, or lack there of, isn’t sophisticated enough to filter out inorganic material from organic so basically anything flushed down the toilet goes straight into the rivers.
4. When a cow dies, which I now know from experience, it is a happy and sad event that last all day. I’ll paint the picture for you, continue reading if you think your stomach is strong enough (if you think your stomach is rock solid, like mine is now, let me know and I can email you some pics from the event- I don’t think they are very facebook appropriate). At 5 in the morning I hear pounding on my door. At first I think it’s the damn birds (I’ll probably make a bullet point about the birds later on) so I ignored it for awhile, but it wouldn’t stop, so I went to see what the deal was. Jose Luis (the 13 year old) was at my door and asked if I would come outside to help because pretty soon the boys had to go to school so it was only going to be Manuela out there tending to the dead cow. I looked over his shoulder and see that sure enough there is the whole family (minus Lucho, because he is already out driving his camioneta) circled around a cow laying on it’s back with all four feet sticking straight up, just the way you’d imagine a dead cow- like it was standing up one minute and just flipped over, dead, the next minute. So, I tell him I’ll be right out I just have to get more appropriately dressed. Next came a few minutes of panic- what to wear to a dead cow’s funeral?? At this point pretty much all of my clothes have been dirtied up quite a bit, but I’m still planning on wearing them again and again for the next 2 years so I didn’t want to risk getting cow blood and guts all over. Eventually, I decided upon my dirtiest jeans, a t-shirt, my rubber boots, and my rain jacket- the last two I figured would be easiest for clean up and the first two I figured were pretty replaceable (unlike Beyonce). So I head outside just as Jesus (16) and Jose Luis are heading in to start cooking breakfast (probably just heating up some soup, let’s be honest here), which left Manuela (mid-50s), Juan Diego (10), Jose (20), and me (22). Jose and Manuela are on either side of the cow, knifes in hand, skinning the cow. J.D. is just sitting there poking at the cow every once in awhile. Manuela tells me every now and then to move one of the legs this way or hold the ear that way so that she can get in there with her knife (the same knifes, by the way, that she uses every day in the kitchen). Eventually, Jose has to leave to go to work so it’s just Manuela, J.D, and me. Jose stopped to tell some of the neighbors on his way to work, so 2 of them come over, one with a huge axe in hand. He sort of takes the lead with Manuela chiming in every so often to add her input and eventually 4 or 5 hours later the cow had been fully skinned, gutted, and chopped into huge pieces (4 huge legs, 2 hugs slabs of ribs, intestines, utter, etc.). Oh, I might have forgotten to mention that the cow was pregnant and we think it might have gone into labor early, which is what ultimately caused her death. Nevertheless, Manuela sifted through every inch of chewed up grass in her stomach to make sure it wasn’t something she ate. What the pregnancy also meant was that we got to see an almost fully formed baby cow. This sent Manuela over the edge because seeing the baby cow inside cemented the fact that she not only lost one cow, but 2! The tears started flowing then, but didn’t go on for too long because there was too much work to be done. Around that same time, Jaime and Sara showed up from Riobamba to help lend some hands. They immediately took 2 of the legs over to MY PIEDRA (laundry rock) to clean them up. Needless to say, I’ll be taking my laundry to Riobamba for awhile until I deem the rock sanitary enough to wash my clothes upon. So a couple more hours of cleaning off the meat, Manuela cleaning out the intestines, me holding the hose helping her in whatever way I could from a distance, the neighbor with the axe chopping whatever big pieces needed to be chopped, J.D. and the other neighbor (mentally challenged, by the way) taking the dead baby calf somewhere off in the distance to either throw down the side of the mountain toward to river or burry it somewhere (I still haven’t figured it out yet, but they left with an azadon (hoe) and a baby calf and only returned with the azadon), we were finally ready to carry the meat over to the house and weigh it out. They were all shocked by how fast I could add in my head. They would cut off a small piece put it on the scale facing me and wait the few seconds it took me to add everything up. I think I may have lost a few points when I had to whip out my phone to do the calculations when the wanted to know how much the meat was worth if they were going to sell it for .80/lb. Oh well. So after weighing out everything they were going to sell or take to Riobamba (3 legs and 1 of slabs of ribs), they tied up and hung out the rest for us to eat. They cut me off a good chunk for me to have, which was nice. Finally around 4 in the afternoon we all went back to our separate areas- Jaime and Sara to Riobamba, Manuela to her house, me to mine, and rested and cooked up what would be each of our breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. What a day!
5. The GOD DAMN BIRDS!! Every morning, like clockwork, these dumb birds come and peck at every single window in my house. There are bars outside of the windows, so they perch upon the bars and just knock away on the windows. This only happens, mind you, between 6 and 7 EVERY MORNING. As we all know, I’m a pretty deep sleeper, but even I can’t out sleep that racket. Instead I now use them as a marker- an initial alarm going off, if you will- and know that after they finish I have a good hour or so left before I should actually get up. But damn, it’s annoying.
6. There are always lines at the bank, no matter what day or what time of day. Craziest part of all is that people don’t seem to mind. They just stand around and wait. The vendors also don’t seem to mind, they see a group of people who aren’t moving very fast and who will eventually give in and pay for that bag of apples, that pork rind (I assume that’s what that thing was that people were chomping on), that bottle of water/juice/soda, that cream for back or knee pains (seriously), etc. So when you come to visit and we walk around Riobamba or any big city and see huge groups of people surrounding a bank, remember: no, someone didn’t just win the lottery, no, someone didn’t just rob the bank, no, there isn’t some new promotion, it is just your average day at the bank.
7. Ya Mismo. It can mean anything from 5 minutes to 5 hours to 5 days. “Hey Jaime when should we have our first meeting about what I should be doing here?” “Ya mismo.” “Hey Manuela, what time should I be over for dinner?” “Ya mismo.” “Hey Lucho we’re all waiting at the tienda in Riobamba when are you going to come pick us up to take us back to Cebadas?” “Ya mismo.” Super frustrating, but it’s definitely my kind of saying. The procrastinator in me can’t quite figure out what to make of it, since I have no deadline to barely make. The PCV/ American (non Ecuadorian) in me is just always prepared for the slight chance that ya mismo has changed to ahora (now).
There are tons more, but I didn’t realize how long that cow story was going to be so now I’m tired and bored of this list. If you’re still reading, I’m sure you’re equally tired and bored so I’m going to spare both of us and continue this later.
Don’t all of you rush to email me news articles or anything…
Special shoutout to some of the greatest moms I know. Sorry I didn’t get to talk to all of you on Sunday, but I was definitely thinking of you- as I was getting drunk with the family in honor of Manuela! (It’s apparently a tradition here to just drink all day on Dia de las Madres- as part of my integration process I figured I should join in!)
So during the swearing in ceremony, we had 2 speeches from volunteers: one from NRC and one from Ag. In one of the speeches, Ross (the NRC representative) ended with a list of things he had learned thus far in training. I’ve decided in an effort reduce the amount of UPDATE YOUR BLOG emails I get from certain people (Mom and Sarah, I’m looking at you), to follow in Ross’s footsteps and every so often bring you a list of things I have learned or observations I have made that have stuck out for me. So without further adieu, I bring to you: Rachel’s Observations of Ecuador (I know, I know the title needs a little work, but titles have always been the hardest part for me. Well, titles and introductions if you want to get specific).
1. Not all blue and white UNIDOS buses stop in Cebadas. While this may mean little to you guys, let me tell you that it’s worth it to double check with the driver if the bus you’re boarding is going to be going all the way to your final destination. If you don’t, as I didn’t yesterday (5/7), you may be forced to wait in a deserted town for 30-45 minutes, only to be picked up by a completely full bus which leads me to…
2. Standing up in a bus isn’t that big of a deal, it’s when you are literally hanging out the door and watching the street speed by underneath when your palms start to sweat a little bit which doesn’t help the grip you’ve got on the only 4 open inches on the nearest handle.
3. Toilet paper doesn’t get flushed down the toilet here; instead it goes into the garbage can right next to the toilet. The sewage system here, or lack there of, isn’t sophisticated enough to filter out inorganic material from organic so basically anything flushed down the toilet goes straight into the rivers.
4. When a cow dies, which I now know from experience, it is a happy and sad event that last all day. I’ll paint the picture for you, continue reading if you think your stomach is strong enough (if you think your stomach is rock solid, like mine is now, let me know and I can email you some pics from the event- I don’t think they are very facebook appropriate). At 5 in the morning I hear pounding on my door. At first I think it’s the damn birds (I’ll probably make a bullet point about the birds later on) so I ignored it for awhile, but it wouldn’t stop, so I went to see what the deal was. Jose Luis (the 13 year old) was at my door and asked if I would come outside to help because pretty soon the boys had to go to school so it was only going to be Manuela out there tending to the dead cow. I looked over his shoulder and see that sure enough there is the whole family (minus Lucho, because he is already out driving his camioneta) circled around a cow laying on it’s back with all four feet sticking straight up, just the way you’d imagine a dead cow- like it was standing up one minute and just flipped over, dead, the next minute. So, I tell him I’ll be right out I just have to get more appropriately dressed. Next came a few minutes of panic- what to wear to a dead cow’s funeral?? At this point pretty much all of my clothes have been dirtied up quite a bit, but I’m still planning on wearing them again and again for the next 2 years so I didn’t want to risk getting cow blood and guts all over. Eventually, I decided upon my dirtiest jeans, a t-shirt, my rubber boots, and my rain jacket- the last two I figured would be easiest for clean up and the first two I figured were pretty replaceable (unlike Beyonce). So I head outside just as Jesus (16) and Jose Luis are heading in to start cooking breakfast (probably just heating up some soup, let’s be honest here), which left Manuela (mid-50s), Juan Diego (10), Jose (20), and me (22). Jose and Manuela are on either side of the cow, knifes in hand, skinning the cow. J.D. is just sitting there poking at the cow every once in awhile. Manuela tells me every now and then to move one of the legs this way or hold the ear that way so that she can get in there with her knife (the same knifes, by the way, that she uses every day in the kitchen). Eventually, Jose has to leave to go to work so it’s just Manuela, J.D, and me. Jose stopped to tell some of the neighbors on his way to work, so 2 of them come over, one with a huge axe in hand. He sort of takes the lead with Manuela chiming in every so often to add her input and eventually 4 or 5 hours later the cow had been fully skinned, gutted, and chopped into huge pieces (4 huge legs, 2 hugs slabs of ribs, intestines, utter, etc.). Oh, I might have forgotten to mention that the cow was pregnant and we think it might have gone into labor early, which is what ultimately caused her death. Nevertheless, Manuela sifted through every inch of chewed up grass in her stomach to make sure it wasn’t something she ate. What the pregnancy also meant was that we got to see an almost fully formed baby cow. This sent Manuela over the edge because seeing the baby cow inside cemented the fact that she not only lost one cow, but 2! The tears started flowing then, but didn’t go on for too long because there was too much work to be done. Around that same time, Jaime and Sara showed up from Riobamba to help lend some hands. They immediately took 2 of the legs over to MY PIEDRA (laundry rock) to clean them up. Needless to say, I’ll be taking my laundry to Riobamba for awhile until I deem the rock sanitary enough to wash my clothes upon. So a couple more hours of cleaning off the meat, Manuela cleaning out the intestines, me holding the hose helping her in whatever way I could from a distance, the neighbor with the axe chopping whatever big pieces needed to be chopped, J.D. and the other neighbor (mentally challenged, by the way) taking the dead baby calf somewhere off in the distance to either throw down the side of the mountain toward to river or burry it somewhere (I still haven’t figured it out yet, but they left with an azadon (hoe) and a baby calf and only returned with the azadon), we were finally ready to carry the meat over to the house and weigh it out. They were all shocked by how fast I could add in my head. They would cut off a small piece put it on the scale facing me and wait the few seconds it took me to add everything up. I think I may have lost a few points when I had to whip out my phone to do the calculations when the wanted to know how much the meat was worth if they were going to sell it for .80/lb. Oh well. So after weighing out everything they were going to sell or take to Riobamba (3 legs and 1 of slabs of ribs), they tied up and hung out the rest for us to eat. They cut me off a good chunk for me to have, which was nice. Finally around 4 in the afternoon we all went back to our separate areas- Jaime and Sara to Riobamba, Manuela to her house, me to mine, and rested and cooked up what would be each of our breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. What a day!
5. The GOD DAMN BIRDS!! Every morning, like clockwork, these dumb birds come and peck at every single window in my house. There are bars outside of the windows, so they perch upon the bars and just knock away on the windows. This only happens, mind you, between 6 and 7 EVERY MORNING. As we all know, I’m a pretty deep sleeper, but even I can’t out sleep that racket. Instead I now use them as a marker- an initial alarm going off, if you will- and know that after they finish I have a good hour or so left before I should actually get up. But damn, it’s annoying.
6. There are always lines at the bank, no matter what day or what time of day. Craziest part of all is that people don’t seem to mind. They just stand around and wait. The vendors also don’t seem to mind, they see a group of people who aren’t moving very fast and who will eventually give in and pay for that bag of apples, that pork rind (I assume that’s what that thing was that people were chomping on), that bottle of water/juice/soda, that cream for back or knee pains (seriously), etc. So when you come to visit and we walk around Riobamba or any big city and see huge groups of people surrounding a bank, remember: no, someone didn’t just win the lottery, no, someone didn’t just rob the bank, no, there isn’t some new promotion, it is just your average day at the bank.
7. Ya Mismo. It can mean anything from 5 minutes to 5 hours to 5 days. “Hey Jaime when should we have our first meeting about what I should be doing here?” “Ya mismo.” “Hey Manuela, what time should I be over for dinner?” “Ya mismo.” “Hey Lucho we’re all waiting at the tienda in Riobamba when are you going to come pick us up to take us back to Cebadas?” “Ya mismo.” Super frustrating, but it’s definitely my kind of saying. The procrastinator in me can’t quite figure out what to make of it, since I have no deadline to barely make. The PCV/ American (non Ecuadorian) in me is just always prepared for the slight chance that ya mismo has changed to ahora (now).
There are tons more, but I didn’t realize how long that cow story was going to be so now I’m tired and bored of this list. If you’re still reading, I’m sure you’re equally tired and bored so I’m going to spare both of us and continue this later.
Don’t all of you rush to email me news articles or anything…
Special shoutout to some of the greatest moms I know. Sorry I didn’t get to talk to all of you on Sunday, but I was definitely thinking of you- as I was getting drunk with the family in honor of Manuela! (It’s apparently a tradition here to just drink all day on Dia de las Madres- as part of my integration process I figured I should join in!)
so I'm not officially over the amoebas business as the cow thing just grossed me out even more. I was ok with the mom cow, but the baby cow? Where are you? I mean, I know where you are. But I have this vision of you in some field someplace. Wish poop toilet paper next to your bedroom ( figuring your bed and toilet must not be far away from each other and you said everyone puts toilet paper in the trashcan.) Is your spanish becoming sooo good? I wish I could be 22 again. I would so do this. I do think I should send you some new shirts though as I wouldn't want you to wear the same ones for two years. Well, gotta run now. I have naked girls running around who just got out of the pool. Miss ya Rachey!!
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