La Rebeca

La Rebeca

My little sister is quite possibly the cutest lil creature I have ever encountered; she is well aware of how precious she is, so she tends to milk it to her advantage. Bequí is quite brilliant to be only 2 years old and 3 months, but I have to say un poquito spoiled tambien. She can totally talk circles around me in Spanish, and at her preschool she is learning French which can sometimes make for a thoroughly confusing playmate. At times, I’m completely lost and have no clue what she is asking me to do which results in her crying hysterically and consequently tattling on me. I’m starting to see the side of ignorance that is not really bliss. For instance, last night she spotted some gummies on the counter and absolutely had to have them. So I opened them up and we went through the whole, “Solamente one more for mamí, and entonces one more for papí, and one for Juaquin tambien (who’s totally not here yet). After I had given her a million gummies, I was like ok “es suficiente, Elmo’s tired, so let’s go put on our pajamas and get ready for bed.” She started to well up like an allergic reaction, shoved a handful of gummies in her mouth, and asked if I was going to share with Elmo too. So, as I unscrewed the top, I said “bueno, este es el ultimo” and when I handed it to her she sounded off like a fog horn. She was crying so frantically I couldn’t understand what she was mumbling, something about a oso, totally had no clue what a oso was. Finally, I realized there were gummy worms and gummy bears in the jar and by the time intuition caught up with me, I pinched hold of a tiny red bear and the crying finally ceased. This is only an example of one small crisis we run into daily.

I must say you can see the tantrums of the terrible twos coming a mile away, even in Spanish. It usually starts with pero, lo quiero (but, I want it) and then ignites into a full blown forest fire from there. As a word of comfort to anyone whose child, or child you were temporarily responsible for, has made that extremely embarrassing public display scene; from experience, children do in fact lie down and scream bloody murder in grocery stores in Ecuador, just like in the States. After three excruciating minutes and a last resort utterance of, “Chau Bequí, I’m leaving” the howling subsided enough to make way for the pout. I’m starting to get a little better at taming or at least detouring the fickleness of little human emotions.

I have become well versed in the grammatical construction of mandatos or commands in being Bequí’s shadow. When I come home for school Bequí is usually right at the door waiting and says joyfully, “La Raquel, vamos a jugar (let’s go play). She throws out ven acá (come here), sigame (follow me), acompaname (accompany me), and no toquele (don’t touch it) on a regular basis, so it is always good practice.

Bequí has a fascination for anything Disney and has recently seen The Princess and the Frog, so anytime she sees a saple, she kisses it which totally cracks me up. Needless to say, we play with princípes y princesas and even refer to her room as el cuarto de princesas (you can see why).

An average day consists of cooking in the easy bake oven, reading touch and feel books, and hiding in la casa de pelotas. We also frequently put Señor Papas’ nariz en su boca and subsequently giggle uncontrollably at how seriously distorted poor Mr. Potato head appears.

Elmo goes everywhere Bequí goes. In case you were wondering, yesterday, Elmo got put in time out for some unknown reason and got told, “Estoy enojada contigo. Siéntense, y no hacer malas cosas. That lasted all of two seconds before Elmo was apparently crying, so then he got a bottle and a galletita (cookie).

Last night, we had a conversation with little Juaquin and told him how we couldn’t wait to meet him. Bequí then broke out the alphabet song and called Juaquin a bailante or dancer because he moved in Mamí’s tummy while she sang. It was precious!

Being a big sister is an extremely rewarding and delightful, yet challenging experience. I have become a proficient diaper changer/bottle maker and have attained a whole new Spanish vocabulary associated with what it means to be fuchi, or stinky.

Oh, how renovating it is to see and imagine the world each day through such little, sparkling eyes.

El Mitad del Mundo

El Mitad del Mundo

Many of my friends whipped out their Lonely Planet Ecuador books and were off to scale mountains this weekend as travelers; I, on the other hand, have been experiencing what it is to be a living resident of Ecuador. So, I dated both sets of my grandparents this weekend. ¿Que chistoso, no?

Friday night I ventured to the historic district (when I say historic I mean like before John Rolfe even thought about hopping on a ship to Jamestown) with the papís of my papí. El Centro is quite beautiful at night. We walked down La Ronda which is the only street in the entire city that goes off the grid and actually curves making a complete circle encompassing La Plaza de Independencia which is intersected by la Calle de las Siete Cruzas which really contains seven grandiose cathedrals. We sat down and chatted with, María, an adorable elderly, indigenous woman from Cuenca who makes beaded jewelry. My papayó bought me a ring that she had just finished stringing, for a dollar mind you; it must have taken all day because it contains a million minuscule beads intricately woven in a web like fashion. Que linda! Otherwise known as how pretty and is pretty much the stalest phrase in Ecuadorian history used to describe everything from a baby’s cute expression to a stylish outfit.

We then encountered one of my Abuelita Lolita’s old childhood friends who happens to own a prestigious artisan shop and café in the heart of the historic nightlife. Her friend Ruth has ancient Ecuadorian weavings, jewelry, and ceramics displayed in massive, 250 year old trees hollowed by indigenous hands and used as communal cooking/serving trays en la selva del Oriente. We sat down and enjoyed a cappuccino and pan de yucca (which is the best potato biscuit you have ever consumed) listening to the music from the streets. When we left my Papayó bought an extra pan de yucca and coffee to go and when we stepped out on the street he graciously stooped down and presented it to the raggedly humble man nestled against the curb with a tin can. As my papayo offered the savory snack, he kissed the man on the cheek and wished upon him many blessings. The sweet hombre stooped in the street was quickly overcome with emotion and I found, in that moment, so was I. In the very next breath my papayó exclaimed, “Chuto (the Ecuadorian term for oops), se me olvidó el azucar.” So I dashed back into the café for some sugar and a spoon. May we always remember to sweeten the lives of those who need a little sugar the most!

Saturday I slept in. Ecuador is in a different time zone, not literally, it is really the same hour as Virginia, but for me, it’s a different time zone. The average weekday commences at 5:30 a.m. (ouch!) and the latest time humanly possible to sleep in is 8:00 a.m. tops, before little Elmo slippers sneak into my room, esconde under the covers, and squeal búscame. After some arroz, pico de gallo y un huevo frito, my mamí, mi hermanita, y yo traveled to a town called, El Mitad del Mundo ( it is exactly the middle of the world) in order to visit my other grandparents.

Bequí asked the Spanish version of are we there yet every two minutes on our journey. We finally arrived and she shrieked for joy as Nana, the family pouch, pounced on her car seat. My grandparents on my mom’s side provided a nice change of scenery. It was refreshing to breathe in the small town air and enter the cramped, cluttered, and humble home. As the delicious fumes from the kitchen engulfed the house, I helped shuck and peal corn on the cob.

Generally speaking, the kitchen is by far my favorite room in the entire house which is slightly absurd since many people of this age have spent little to no time in a kitchen. My love is inspired, most likely, by all the sensory images invoked of the fond memories I have had in my Granny Betty’s kitchen. Abuelita Fabi’s cocina felt so very familiar and could quite possibly be the equator version of my Granny Betty’s with a cluttered refrigerator full of family portraits, ancient utilities which have seen their share of grease stains, something savory simmering on the burner, plants being nursed back to health in the window seal, a colorful table cloth probably picked up on a thrifting adventure, only completed by a depiction of Jesus adorning the wall and a tattered Bible permanently residing on the epicenter of a table which is much too small for the large number of occupants it serves on a daily basis. While shucking corn, I thought of all the mid Sunday morning theological conversations we have shared over the most perfectly brewed cup of coffee; the mid afternoon board games with all my fabulous great aunts; the Wednesday late night snacks and crossword puzzles; the art of cooking as a labor of love without a timer or a recipe; the prayers that are so divinely inspired they bring tears to your eyes; the antediluvian, olive green phone that ring bringing news you’ll never forget; and the eccentric holiday gatherings, as well as, the spontaneous ones that occur just because it’s a natural center of congregation. As I was caught by a moment of nostalgia, I imagined all the memories Abuelita Fabi’s kitchen had seen. We all gathered around the table for a afternoon lunch of fritada which is a traditional Ecuadorian dish; onion, tomato, and cilantro salad; fried plantains; corn on the cob, tostadas (which are half popped popcorn kernels with fried onions); and, of course, rice. Qué rico

In the afternoon, I got to help Bequí ride a bike for the first time! It was really fun experience which truly made me feel like a big sister. There was totally that Mira, mira, I actually did it! moment followed shortly by that crash and burn, wipe-out instant as well. As a glimpse into the day in the life of being a big sister and the interworkings of my precious little sister, here is my pictorial representation of what it is to watch Bequí become acquainted with the idea of sharing:

Let’s share and let cousin, Alejandro, ride the bike for un ratito. Por supuesto, so far so good.

Contemplating the idea of what it actually means to share… here comes the pout. Um, I’m not sure this is as chill as I originally thought you made it sound.

I just realized what sharing is all about. Wait! Wait! I take it back! She's so stinkin’ cute!

Later, we embarked on a touring adventure to discover Rumicucho, ancient ruins left behind by the Incas. We attained a glimpse of Incan military and strategic power in the geographic location of the fort as well as their social hierarchy realized in three increasing levels of structural assembly. Aspects of the Inca’s advanced astrology and sacrificial religious practices were apparent as well.

After our archaeological conquest into the world of the Empire Inciaca, we headed for the towns namesake where I literally stood on the line delineating the middle of the world, 0-0-0 latitude, placing one foot in the northern hemisphere and the other in the southern. It was súper chévere (Ecuadorian code for ridiculously awesome) and super symbolic. My papayó and I then toured an anthropological museum that has interesting displays of Ecuador's indigenous populations and their customs. Papyó help my hand the whole time and was very proud to give me insight into his ancestors history. I am sure our guide was not quite equipped to actually have an Ecuadorian observe her presentation, especially a passionate and astute Ecuadorian history teacher such as my grandpa. He ended up completing her sentences with the names, dates, and demographics she was struggling to remember and he has ingrained in his heart.

So, here is to walking the line or the equator rather and merging two separate worlds!

Un país en escombros: lloras por Haití
A Country in Ruins: Tears for Haiti

Today’s Ecuadorian periodico read, “121 milagros han sucedido en Haití (121 miracles have succeed in Haiti)” and yesterday’s headline was, “Ecuador mandó un avion para ayudar Haiti (Ecuador sent a plane to help Haiti).” For the past week and a half the front page has been dedicated to Haiti relief depicting the horrors, telling the stories of lost victims, and the miraculous survival stories; essentially, connecting the Ecuadorian nation in empathy with Haitianos who continue to suffer after another tremor of 6,1 en la escala de Richter reactivated a world of panic and further destruction.

I have tasted the salt of my tears for Haiti these past weeks; the images are soul shuddering to soak in and even more painstaking to try and fathom. Such tragedy is always hard to grasps and it is so easy to ask where was God?

I have no doubt whatsoever where God was. God was there. God was buried beneath tons of crushing steel and suffocating debris, holding hands, whispering blessings, and answering cries of pain. God was crawling and digging through the wreckage to reach God’s beloved children who were suffering. For some reason we think God is light-years away up in Heaven with the chubby cherubs; but God is here amongst us in the trenches with God´s children, if we are to utilize Paul´s imagery. We would be disillusioned to think that God’s heart isn’t completely shattered from such devastating anguish. God too gasps for air from weeping for God’s children in Haiti. When I try to figure out why this occurred and why it had to happen to such a poverty stricken, struggling nation like Haiti, the only answer I find is: plate tectonics. Molten magma burning and searing deep within the Earth’s fiery core caused the mantle to become malleable and shift which then surged a catastrophic quake and shivering tremor. I hate moments like these where I am reminded that we live in the age of a continuing cosmic struggle, but I am thankful all the same for the liberating victory we have in Christ Jesus.

I was blessed to see that Ecuadorian ink splashes with hope instead of embossing a sea of despair. It’s quite emotive to see the images of Anna Zizi, 70 years old, being pulled out of the ruins of the cathedral in the capital of Haiti and to know that una pequena de 23 dias was rescued alive from the rubble as well. To see the Ecuadorian nation reaching out and doing everything within its power to send aid to our Haitian brothers and sisters, who now move to the top of the list of the World’s failing states, is the international relations solidarity hoped and prayed for. We are united mano con mano y corazon con corazon.

I was also surprised to see what a powerful world vision Ecuadorian print captures. Never in this country would Pro Golfer, Tiger Wood’s, extra marital activities seize more consecutive NYT headlines than the September 11th tragedy. A single day on the front page of an Ecuadorian newspaper is dominated by concern for Haiti, worries for the efficacy of the Obama Administration’s second year and the upcoming 2010 elections, the number of vehicles manejando the streets of Quito and the resulting environmental degradation that ensues from such an intense concentration of polluted exhaust, global climate change which has resulted in a drying climate for Quito causing concern of adequate water supply, for the rivalry riots and subsequent deaths in Durango, Mexico, the rise of narcotrafficking and violence of the military ejercicio FARC in Colombia, the Human Rights Violations incongruent with the standards of the Geneva Convention that have occurred at Guantanamo Bay, the oppression of indigenous groups like the Shuar who are being massacred by petroleum companies in la selva amozonia and by mountain top removal mining companies in the Andes, the deaths that occurred in Bagdad from the car bomb explosion this past week, and the vulnerable international market. Less than a one and a half inch area is given to EE.UU. (U.S.) actor Jonny Depp who was elected among the top 25 men with the most style, the new Spiderman 4 director, and Lindsay Lohan’s big dancing debut with the Viena Opera.

You only have to read one page to realize what a beacon the United States is to other nations. I pray we can deliver. I pray we would capitalize on health care reform and make adequate health attention a fundamental human right; that the U.S. along with the European Union will give the UN teeth to stand against the outrageous human right violations occurring around the world; that we might renounce war in the Middle East and promote peace at any cost; that we would set a standard of excellent against carbon and greenhouse gas emissions and quit relying on dirty coal to fuel our fluctuating economy; that we would make humanitarian aid our greatest national expenditure and waste no more preparing for war; that we might wage combat against HIV/AIDS, yellow fever, malnutrition and malaria; that we might be a sanctuary for all immigrants remembering the words of Alexis de Tocqueville who wrote in 1831, ¨Once America opens her doors, she will never be able to close them again;¨ that we might release nations like Cuba from economic embargo and mandating restrictions because of conflicting ideologies; that we might abandon our exploitation of India’s textile industry; that American Industries would stop raping the rain forest for its material values as the shadow of the mounding flavelas loom over the desolation; that we would provide for the disease stricken, war-torn, environmental refugees of Africa; and that we would stop flirting with disaster with Hugo Chavez and our new found military bases in Ecuador and Colombia. It is my hope also that the U.S. will play a quintessential role in nursing Haiti back to health.

I am a firm believer in the fact that our actions, our words, and our thoughts in this world truly matter, they matter for an eternity. As other nations stand vigilant, may we learn to lead by following the path of our Sovereign God.

Terms of Endearment

There is something about Latin American that beckons my soul. I have fallen in love with Hispanic and Brazilian culture and have a feeling I will always be planted in two hemispheres. I went to the embassy and obtained my Ecuadorian Censo today, which is kind of like my green card. Even though I have this little I.D. that declares me a temporary citizen of the Republic of Ecuador, I know that I will be more than a provisional anything of Ecuador; this place will always have a claim on my heart that simulates the sentiments of home.

I have discovered many aspects of Ecuadorian culture which are quite precious. At the risk of being overarching stereotypical of the entire Ecuadorian civilization, I have derived several anthropological observations which have led me to conclude that Ecuadorians are legitimately endearing and engaging. Ecuadorians live very passionately and are an immensely caring people who aren’t afraid to show affection or be vulnerable even in the presence of strangers.
The first gesture you will encounter which might take you aback is that we like to kiss. Yeah, that’s right, Ecuadorians are very touchy feely. When greeting someone, even someone you are meeting for the first time, instead of saying hello and extending a hand in a very proper and distant manner; it is customary to hug and kiss on the check before bubbling with affection and asking how someone is. It is also customary to follow up any sentence by addressing your counterpart with expressions like, mi amor (my love), mi vida (my life), and mija (my daughter). My Papayó (Grandpa) jokes, saying, “We only wish we were French, so we could kiss on the cheek two times.” Before leaving a room or a function, you must literally hug, kiss, and bless everyone in your presence, no matter how numerous the company may be. When my Papayó leaves, he kisses you three times in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit and says something along the lines of “Te vaya con Dios” or “Cuidate y que Dios te bendiga” which translates to Go with God or Take care and may God bless you. Needless to say, I find Ecuadorians to be a very blessed and blessing people.

The next thing you will notice is that the diminutive is alive and well here. Ecuadorians add ito (a little bit of…) to everything giving bland words more emotion, showing a heightened level of endearment, and making for a extra precious conversation in general. Ejemplo: I am a gringa, which in Ecuador is the non negative term used to mark someone who is foreign (even Colombians are considered gringos). So I am my family’s very own gringita. I brought my family Hershey’s chocolates as a hospitality gift and when my Papayó found out that they were from los Estados Unidos, he said, “you mean to tell me estes chocolates son gringitos tambien.” (jajaja) Mi mamí, who is less than three weeks away from giving birth, is called gordita. Gorda in Spanish is the adjective used to describe being fat, but just add ito to it and it becomes a loving nickname for her situation. So you might as well become accustomed to cafecitos, galletitas, perros chiciquitos, y panteloncitos upon arriving in Ecuador.

Another thing, Ecuadorians tend to intertwine indirect and direct objects on purpose. Usually, I say le when grammatically speaking I should have said lo. My mistake is out of sheer ignorance, but Ecuadorians decisively choose to personify words instead of objectify them which I happen to find linguistically charming.

Oh, Ecuadorians have no concept of time or no spacial awareness what-so-ever. If you aren’t touching, you are too far apart making for some really snuggly moments. Also, there is such a thing as the Ecuadorian hour. Figuratively speaking, Latin America in general is in a different time zone. But apparently, time in Ecuador is even more relaxed and happy-go-lucky. Ecuadorians know a thing or two about grace. For instance, Ecuadorians allow a two hour grace period or window of time for any rendezvous. If you have a meeting at 10:00 a.m. and your Ecuadorian counterpart doesn’t show up until 12:05p.m, he/she will only apologize for being 5 minutes late because in the Ecuadorian time/space vortex, that’s the reality. Punctuality is dead here; only gringos bother wearing watches.

So just be forewarned that I might not be able to resist hugging and kissing you when I get back to Virginia, even if I’m only leaving the room for un ratito and returning shortly, be prepared for me being really squishy.

Stained Glass Masquerade

A group of gringitas (international students) and I explored the Historic District of Quito or El Centro on our first full weekend in Ecuador. We ate at a fabulous heladería and café called San Augustín which had the most delicious sabores of ice cream. I highly recommend Guanabana (a well known fruit in Ecuador which has a peach, coconut, pineapple flavor going on) and Mora (blackberry) together. Muy rico! We ventured the streets snapping photos of the ancient architecture and mounding rooftops and gawking at the pirated DVDs for a $1.50 and cute $5 flats.

One of the first things you notice in Ecuador’s historic Old Town is that, just like Starbucks’ in New York City, there’s a cathedral on every corner. So, we toured La Iglesia de la Compañia de Jesus which was constructed over the span of 160 years (1605 – 1765) embodying the Baroque style of art and architecture. There are two massive original canvases in the entry hall which are attributed to Hernando de la Cruz and date back to 1620. The one at the north end is called, The Last Judgment, and the one at the south is called, Hell, utilizing polarity as additional symbolism for conveying meaning. As I stood beneath the looming image of Lucifer enthroned on a fiery pedestal with dark demons creepily encroaching on all sides, I shuddered. It was grotesque and tortuous; man, woman, and child were being consumed giving vivid illustration to ¨the outer darkness; where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.¨ The aspect of the artistry that spoke to me the most was the fact that with each person was scratched a pecado or a sin that branded them. Some were asesino (murderer), ladrón (thief), mentiroso (liar); but, the cast majority were things like murmurado (one who murmurs/gossips), espectador (onlooker), and descriptions like desagradecido (ungrateful), injusto (unjust), and despilfarrador (wasteful). The painting just highlighted the fact that somewhere along the line we started putting sins on a Richter Scale labeling some more violent than others when in fact omission and failure to act and reach out to our brothers and sisters can be just as entombing.

As we continued to meander into the heart of the cathedral, we were blinded by the glimmer of the refraction of the sunlight penetrating the skylight windows and bouncing off the 23 carat gold leaf, which gilds the entire church. The Church of the Company of Jesus in Quito has been catalogued by UNESCO as one of the hundred most important World Heritage Site Monuments in the world. After a 12 year restoration at a cost of 4.5 million dollars, the temple was reopened to the public so it could be viewed in all its adorned and magnificent splendor. As I knelt down on what was most likely a Persian rug lining the altar rail, I got chills; the sickening, disturbing kind of chills. I tried to pray, but just felt so disconnected and so very far away from God. I couldn’t help but feel repulsed and jaded by the disenchantingly (yes, I did in fact make that word up) ornate architecture of the cathedral. As I took in the golden image of Jesus hanging on the cross, I couldn’t help but think, this is so ridiculously ostentatious for a vow of poverty. I guess it was my Shane Claiborne/Casting Crowns moment, you know, the one where you just want to shout, “Jesus is not in that stained glass window” and question, have we traded our altar for a stage? If so, is the performance convincing and when will we close the curtain on our stained glass masquerade?

God’s church is authenticated on the streets and in the slums, amidst the stray dogs and polluted air. I felt liberated when I stepped outside and breathed it all in. God lives in us; may we be God´s children and build God´s church in the streets, in Ecuador, Brazil, Mozambique, and the United States, stretching as far as the east is to the west.

The Ecuadorian Transportation System…es lOco

I’m officially going to declare catching & riding an Ecuadorian bus an extreme sport. Seriously, it should be added to the 2012 Olympic Games.

There are only a few designated paradas or stops in Ecuador. If you want on, you must, literally, flag the bus down and be prepared to jump on with your veinticinco centavos (.25) in hand. The next challenge is staying on your feet while the driver continues to crank gears and scale the inclining terrain. If you have managed all of this so far without sustaining a serious bodily injury, the music is quite fantastíca, la vista of the peaks and valleys is gorgeous, a veces the company is sociable, and there are really fun vendadores who hop on to pedal yummy things at stoplights.

Depending on the hour, the autobus in Ecuador could quite possible reinvigorate the trite platitude packed like sardines. For Ecuadorians to be such a relaxed people, when those doors spring open you have never seen or felt such a rush. The worst part of the whole transportation ordeal; I must say, is the dismount. If you are anywhere near where you think you need/want to be you must move to the flailing doors in transit, and I mean like muy rapido, holler gracias and just say a prayer that the driver slows down enough to let you vault off. Es completamente loco, but a ridiculously fun daily adventure nonetheless.

Papí walked/rode through it with me on Sunday, since I had orientation at USFQ the next day. He kept saying, “¿Es fácil, no?” and I wanted to be like NO, It’s really not that easy, but I didn’t. It was really sweet of him to take me through all the turns, crosses, buses, and stops. Everyone in my family was worried I was going to get lost the first day, but so far so good.

Since I live in the Northern Part of Quito, I’m a poquito lejos or a little far away from the Universidad, which is inconveniently nestled in the scenic town of Cumbayá, so the journey takes me through three different bus systems. The bus that travels El Bosque route (which is the area where I live) has yet to maintain any semblance of a schedule, so I usually end up walking the 35 minutes on pie to get to the Ecovia Bus Station where I catch another one to Río Coca where I must then flag down the next one to Cumbayá. All in all, it takes me about an hour and fifteen to an hour and thirty minutes to commute one way pending everything runs smoothly. I usually grab a copy of El Comercio, which is like the NYT of Quito, and brace myself for the rollercoaster. The bus system surely makes for a lively commute and a colorful, daily Quito adventure. I have also encountered some fabulous Ecuadorian friends along the way and they never fail to be in their spots with warm greetings.

Ecuadorian travel tip of the day: Ecuador is in the midst of a change/small bills crisis. They use the U.S. dollar but have had to make their own coins to try and mitigate the problem caused by the shortage. A twenty dollar bill might as well be a hundred. So, don’t be surprised if you spend a dollar on a cappuccino and pay the cashier with a ten and receive a mountain of nickels and a frown.

Thanks for the roll of quarters Granny!!! They are fabulous when commuting by bus.

Andean High

Estoy en Quito. Hola from 2,850 meters or nearly 10,000 feet!

I was literally on the midnight flight into Quito, which coincided with a customs pile-up, so it was even later in la madrugada than expected when I met my host dad, Edi, more fondly known as papí (Pop*ee). My mamí (mom*ee), Doris, wasn’t there because I have a two year-old little sister and a baby brother on the way, (Juaquin is expected to arrive at the end of January or the first week in February), but she was waiting for me when we got home. My Ecuadorian parents are very loving and affectionate and from the very first instant it was obvious that I had been adopted into their family as their oldest daughter. We had a great introductory chat (which went well since I had eleven hours of rehearsal on the plane). But, I must admit I totally had that low moment; you know the one in the Atlanta airport after you have just heard the voice of your hysterically crying mom for the last time. Before you drop off the grid for the next 4 ½ months and disappear into the unknown crevices of a foreign country. Yeah, that miserable moment where I was totally like, this was a mistake, what was I thinking? I can’t do this!

Cue God…. Oh wait, God never needs a stage direction to enter the scene.

When I arrived at my seat I discovered the lovely face of my fellow Hokie and sweet sister in Christ, Carly, and everything was suddenly better. I would say what a fortunate coincidence, but as another one of my beautiful B-stud (cool chrisitanese term for Bible Study we like to throw around on the college campus) sisters in cru. always says, “There are no such things as coincidences, there’s just Jesus.” So, it was totally a “just Jesus” moment where I was reassured by the Holy Spirit that I was meant to dive into studying abroad, learning Spanish, and serving in Ecuador as a part of being called into God’s Global Ministry.

In between our excited nervous chatter, we realized the very eloquent Spanish speaking man to our left (who had ridiculously bilingual and adorable children) was wearing a Virginia Tech class ring. Of course, we had to ask. He was a GTA in the history department who studied at USFQ for a semester, where he met his wife. They had just finished visiting family in Lynchburg and were heading home to Quito where they have lived for the past twelve years. Come to find out his son, Wesley, is named after John and Charles Wesley because his father is an ordained Methodist minister in the Virginia Conference and he is a Pastor who leads youth ministry in Ecuador! He gave us a rundown of the city, things we must do, dangers to guard against and offered a glimpse into Ecuadorian culture; so, both encounters were really fun and unexpected blessings, but then again that’s how God works, unexpectedly.

This morning I woke up to squealing and cluttering from the breakfast table and emerged to meet my little sister, Rebeca (Bequí), who was dressed in Disney princess pajamas and was chanting Raquel. She was wearing a bib that said, abrázame (hug me), so I did, and received a really sweet little beso (kiss). As we continued our get-acquainted conversation over a delicious fresh, fruit salad with mango, kiwi, banana, papaya, and apple, a fuzzy Elmo slipper snuggled with me under the table.

The view from our seventh floor apartment of the northern part of Quito, the airport, and the mountains is quite gorgeous. The very first morning the snowcapped volcano, Cotapaxi, was visible, but since it has been high in the nubes (clouds). Given this fact, the first thing you will undoubtedly notice in Ecuador is that one single flight of stairs feels like thirty minutes on the elliptical. Needless to say, the altitude here takes some adjustment.

Mis papís took me on a short ride through our part of the city and we had a fun seafood lunch. I became acquainted with a ceviche which is a very typical Ecuadorian dish. The most popular ceviches are made with camarón (shrimp) which swim in a lemon/lime juice (in Spanish lemon and lime are the same word, limón, how incredibly efficient or inefficient rather, depending on how you look at it) with onions, cilantro, and it is customary to put popcorn in it! It was unusually delicious with a mezcla única (unique mixture) of flavors. ¡Que rico!

The first evening I met both sides of my extended family at separate get-togethers. It was quite overwhelming, but very loving and lively. At first I thought that we were gathering as family for a special occasion, but now I realize being surrounded by relatives is an everyday occurrence for my Ecuadorian family; whether it is an afternoon cafecito, a late night postre (dessert), or a quick game of tennis on the wii. It is such a blessing to be adopted into an amazing, adoring, and larger than life family here in Ecuador. It is such a wonderful reminder of home. Praise be to God!

Ecuadorian table manner tip of the day: when consuming food, especially homemade meals, you must say, ¡Que rico! at least six times to appear decently appreciative and satisfied. Seriously.

Happy New Year

The New Year is a very symbolic time. It is a special moment that marks the past year and steps forth with a hopeful hint of anticipation into the unknown, the year to come. For me, New Year’s is usually a very special night filled with friends and family; a time of celebration, but most importantly, a time to be immersed in prayer. This New Year’s Eve was momentous in a very different sense, in that, I experienced what is widely known as, a meltdown.


On January 1, 2010, I embarked on what would be my Ecuadorian Adventure for a semester abroad as un estudiante intercambio cultural (cultural exchange student) at Universidad San Francisco de Quito, (http://www.usfq.edu.ec/ ) officially launching my number one 2010 New Year’s Resolution: actually learn to speak some Spanish.


Every year I make grandiose resolutions promising to do this or resolving to get better at that to absolutely no avail. This New Year’s I went ahead and pushed my resolution off a cliff, you know, to give it a head start and there is most definitely no turning back now. I have been ‘studying’ (jaja) Spanish since 8th grade and have now completed my minor from Virginia Tech. I can write an excellent, very longwinded, Spanish term paper, but can’t seem to muster a simple sentence without fumbling all over myself. Que ridículo, no? So, on the eve of 2010, in the face of the overwhelmingly new year which would bring with it a new country, a new city, a new family, a new university, a new language, a new culture, and ultimately a new adventure; I was furiously packing whilst trying to quell my nerves and mitigate the onset of tears.


In the depths of my emotional vitality, I discovered a prayer conveniently tucked between Psalm 62 and 63 of my study Bible and I prayed it over and over again.

My prayer for 2010:

May God bless us with discomfort at
easy answers, half truths, and
superficial relationships, so that we
may live deep within our hearts.

May God bless us with anger at
injustice, oppression, and exploitation
so that we may work for
socioeconomic justice for all people.

May God bless us with tears to shed for
those who suffer from pain, hunger,
homelessness and rejection, so that we
may reach out our hand to comfort
them and to turn their pain into joy.

And may God bless us with enough
foolishness to believe that we can
make a difference in the world so that
we can do what others claim cannot be
done.

~ Education for Justice

So here’s to taking foolishly daring steps in the name of service and to LIVING THE VISION.

May 2010 truly be a Year of the Lord’s Favor filled with recklessly radical obedience to God and the beautiful blessings of unfailing love, flowing grace, unequivocal mercy, deeply rooted faith, blind trust, and luminous hope.

Salud y feliz año nuevo