Quito has been rather eventful these
past few days, basically starting on Thanksgiving day. Big family holidays are
hard to miss, particularly when the country you are in doesn’t celebrate them.
I’m hoping Christmas is easier, if only because everyone here will also be
celebrating.
My Thanksgiving was spent at school
(for the first time in my life) and at my volunteer job. I did have a few
things to be thankful for though, one of them being my Quichua professor paying
for my bus fare saying that “Here in Ecuador, when we travel together, we
sometimes pay for each other.” (He and I ride the same bus home after class,
but this was the first time we actually talked during the journey.) When I got
home, there wasn’t a single person there, and no one got home before I finally
decided to go to bed. I found out the next morning that that was because my
host-mom had gone into the hospital. She’s still home from work and I don’t
think she’s returning until Thursday. She was in the hospital both Thursday and
Friday nights with a high fever (over 104 at the highest) wand was still
feverish Saturday and Sunday. I’ve been getting my own breakfasts in the morning
and washing more dishes since she’s been sick. In a way, it’s nice to decide
what I’m eating in the morning, but I missed having a mother figure in the
house. It’s interesting how easily I can get used to a certain way of life, or
a certain routine.
Friday was my “real” Thanksgiving. I
skipped my last class of the day to go to the store and buy carrots and salad
makings, only to find out, when the rest of my class showed up to finish their
shopping, that it had been canceled. I headed home loaded with food and spent
the next few hours in the empty house, blasting music from my laptop and
chopping carrots and lettuce ‘till kingdom come. Or, rather, until it was time
to head over to Sophie’s with my now-chopped-and-steamed carrots and Caesar
salad creation.
We all met up at Sophie’s and ate
until our stomachs were distended with delicious turkey (there were two),
mashed potatoes, casseroles, stuffing, salad, and desert. When 28 people make 28
different and wonderful homey foods for just as many homesick people, everyone
eats too much. We spent a good hour or so sitting around complaining about our
painfully full bellies and marveling at the amount of food we had stuffed into
them. Never again, even if it did taste good. That dinner definitely helped me
feel more connected and back on track though. We may be different than all the
people surrounding us, but we still have each other, and we understand each
other, and it’s really nice to know that.
Saturday, Emily asked if I wanted to
check out an ongoing LGBT film festival going on in Quito, and, wanting to get
out of the house for a change, I accepted the invitation. We saw a few short
films that were intriguing and, in some cases, strange. The best part of
getting out of the house though, was the storm that rolled in as I was standing
in the bus station. It started to pour just as I got off my first bus and ran
over to wait for Emily at the next bus. The rain though was not content to stay
rain and quickly became a hail storm. Hail the size of marbles came pelting out
of the sky, battering the tin roof of the bus terminal and nearly deafening
everyone under it. Not everyone seemed as enchanted and excited by it as I did,
but I couldn’t help noticing the two “ejercito” (army) men standing next to me
catching the little ice balls and showing them to each other with smiles on
their faces. On the bus, Emily and I saw that, further south, the hail storm
had been much larger and the streets were still covered in a slush of little
icy balls. It actually looked like it had snowed in Quito. It was a magical experience,
kind of like the first winter snow, except that it doesn’t EVER snow here. Not
unless you climb another mile or so up a mountain and into the thin, cold atmosphere.
Sunday was my final Capoeira
certification class. It turned out to be a completely informational thing, no
activity whatsoever, which was a little disappointing, but very interesting
nonetheless. Returning home though, I saw, in the bus station, a man with no
nose. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more strikingly different in my
life. People are supposed to have noses, and this guy didn’t. He didn’t even
have nostrils, just a flat bunch of scar tissue in the middle of his face that
I tried really hard not to stare at.
Interesting things keep happening
these days. Just yesterday, instead of just getting whistled at by a group of
men I was walking by, I was actually serenaded by one of them. Not that it was
much better than the whistles and hisses, but at least he was creative. I think
I’m starting to notice more of the things I like about being here again, and
that’s definitely a good thing.
I hope all of you can notice the
good things wherever you are too, and that you can enjoy your experiences as
much as I am, once again, enjoying mine.
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