When I was a little girl I used to think I could swing my problems away. In other words, I thought that if only I could swing high enough I would swing right out of the atmosphere and all my worries would stay behind on earth and I would just float peacefully in space forevermore. At recess I would dash to the swing set and quickly sit down, grasping tightly the cold metal chains, my right hand slightly above the level of my left. I would kick my shoes off and dangle my frilly-socked feet a food above the ground, thinking for a while about all the worries a six year old should never have to think about. When I was ready, I would tilt my head back, push off the ground, and begin to swing. The higher and higher I got, the more and more worries shleffed off into the wind, and the closer and closer I got to leaving them all behind. Eventually though, the recess bell would always ring and I would have to return to reality.
Recently, I rediscovered this meditative power that swinging holds for me. When I decided to take a walk one afternoon, I came across this modest little park with a slide and a swing set next to the river near my host family’s home. With nothing better to do, I kicked off my shoes, sat down, and started to swing. The repetitive swooshing motion and continuous hum of rusted metal lulled me into a trance of serenity. All my worries of school and language and family and Ecuador and home and depression and money and love and life just seemed to have blown from my conscious with each dip and rise. I was almost about to swing off into space and float there forevermore when all of a sudden it started to rain. I slowed down to a stop, picked up my shoes, and walked away back into reality to get out of the rain…
día cincuenta y ocho: 03/01/2010 It’s Monday and I must say that tonight was absolutely absurd. We had a meeting at school about a party we are planning for all the host families on Saturday. All the moms congregated and it was intense. Their cacophony of chitchat and waft of noxious perfume filled the small and stuffy meeting room. We sat for an hour and planed everything. All I know is that we are going to be competing in some sort of variety of field games and that we are now standing in a costume shop at 9:50pm renting princess dresses and crowns. No joke, mine is red with small rosettes on the back panel of the skirt and my crown has sparkly red glitter all over it. I seriously look like a Disney Princess, it’s funny and absurd. Never in a million years would I have ever thought that tonight’s experience would be included as part of studying abroad in Ecuador. Oh! Also during the party planning meeting, I thought that my host mom had a tattoo of a flower on her ankle. I even asked her about it. Boy, oh boy! did she find that hysterical. She just laughed and revealed that it was a design on her tights. How was I supposed to know that when she was wearing skinned colored tights and when it’s dang common to get a tattoo back home?…here though, not so acceptable. I felt so stupid. I get asked about my tattoos with wide eyed curiosity all the time here. Absurd, absolutely absurd!
día cincuenta y nueve: I flipped a good amount of machismo men off today, it felt empowering. Really though, I’m sick and tired of being hollered at or hissed at or having my cleavage stared at by old men. I even got pissed when I got a double take from a cute clean-cut guy. Leah told me just to take it as a complement, but I’m fed up! Once I got to school, my Spanish class had a group interview with this almost dead Catholic priest (Mónsenor was what they called him). That’s mean to call him “almost dead,' but it’s true, he’s nearly 110. And besides, the interview wasn’t very helpful. Our professor had to repeat everything we asked him so he could understand and then acted as if it were easy for us to understand his jittery Spanish just out of respect. I’m not really in a good mood, can you tell? Hey but here’s something I can be positive about: Ecuadorians really like putting things in scrambled eggs and are pretty darn good at it, I would even call them experts. I quite enjoy it when they add chicken begonia or mote (a type of corn added to make a dish called mote pite) or oregano. Speaking of mote pite, we had some during lunch today. My host family’s cousins were here visiting from Daytona Beach. It was nice not being the only one who doesn’t eat red meat for a change (one of the cousins was Jewish and thus ate kosher). Oh and today, we switched it up in Salsa class and learned the Meringue for a change. It’s an outward-in sort of dance and, I’m not going to lie, I like dancing it a smidge better than the Salsa. Shhh! don’t tell the Salsa, it might get jealous.
día sesenta y uno: Thursday seemed like a good enough day to buy more rolls of film. So I did, and in doing so, I realized that I have shot about 36 so far. Oh my. That’s going to be a pretty penny to get developed. On another completely unrelated note…FUN FACT that I learned ecology class: we eat dead wasps in every Fig Newton! I never knew this, but fig trees are a keystone species in the jungle and wasps hold a vital symbiotic relationship with them, in which they help pollinate the fig flowers and then the male wasp dies inside the fruit. So, bugs, yummy! Also, it’s official, I should have unsubscribed to Nuemos email list, among other venues, because all I do now is read their emails and see all the wonderful concerts I could be going to if I were home. Sad. My host sister, Laureana came to visit from Quito. At dinner she joked, “this family is like a hospital” when everyone was talking about their Dr.’s and the dietitian and diabetes and how many calories are in an egg. However, I was the only one that laughed besides Laurena, it was awkward. Woke up again at 2 am. It was raining like fuck. The rainy season is upon us folks! I mean really though, Ecuador only has two seasons, “hot and dry” and “hot and wet” and when it’s wet, it’s wet. Seems to rain a small sea’s worth of water every day.
Cajas National Park
día sesenta y tres: Today we had un Día de Campo (or a Field Day as it’s called in the States). This is the party thingy that we were planning on Monday. All the students, their host families, and our professors got together at Alex’s host families country home for food, fun, and games. It was as equally as absurd as the planning had been. Each Spanish class was a team and we dressed up in our costumes and paraded around with our team banners we had made. There were the little devils and the medicos and of course our team, the Reinas (or “Queens” in English). Our sign was the jaw of a shark with our name and a crown in black and pink and white. We added in the shark because Sophia wanted to make certain that we looked fierce too. Absurd! How many times can I say absurd in one week? The rest of the day was spent playing games like musical chairs or three-legged-race and eating lots of potluck-esc food. How silly!
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