I thought this was pretty exciting. Yay!
” The University of Washington, for the second year in a row, tops the list of colleges and universities sending the most number of volunteers to the Peace Corps in 2007.”
“University of Washington also leads the pack in the third annual graduate school rankings, with 17 graduate school alumni serving.”
“How long have you been out of the country?” the passport control officer asked me with tired disinterest.
“Seven months,” I replied.
“What were you doing there?” he asked, suppressing a yawn.
“I’m in the Peace Corps!” I answered, as gleefully proud as a three year old pointing to a double scoop ice cream cone.
The officer didn’t even blink at this announcement, but merely nodded at me to pass. I was a little disappointed that he hadn’t been excited that I was a real! live! PCV, but I couldn’t blame him. The time was 5:55am and I had just landed in Houston.
Finally, I was on U.S. soil! How excited was I? I ran to the first water fountain I saw and took a drink. I could drink water from the tap without worrying if it was going to make me sick! I marveled at the brand new shininess of the Houston airport and frankly, felt like a yokel who didn’t really speak English (this is partly true, I have a hard time not speaking to people in Spanish). I got disproportionately excited because I saw other Asian people. Even better, as I walked around the airport, I saw travelers from all different races…and not a single small child pointed and called me china. Hallelujah!
Right off the bat, the first impression I had was that Americans are, well, FAT. I’d been warned by other PCVs who’ve traveled back to the States, but I was still shocked. There is very clearly an obesity epidemic in this country. Granted, I’ve been working with Ecuadorian campesinos who consume the bare minimum of calories to power them through long days planting and tilling, but still. This sounds mean, but perhaps people should try walking to the gate with their luggage instead of being driven from point to point on those silly airport carts.
Secondly, the first thing I heard, and then heard again and again, as I entered the airport was that the current threat advisory was ORANGE! Oh, you don’t say? Gee, funny how the terror alert level has been orange every single time I’ve been in a US airport in the past 2 years. The ever-present nagging voice of the terror alert woman was compounded by the presence of several Fox News Stores. I wondered to myself, “What do they sell in there? Fair and balanced merchandise?” Welcome to 1984.
I digress. I got my luggage, cleared customs quickly, and then took the train to my next flight departing for Seattle. As I was walking to my gate, you know what I saw? A Starbucks. Yes, that bastion of corporate greed at which my Seattle coffee snob friends sneer (“Friends don’t let friends go to Starbucks” is one bumper sticker I’ve seen). But you know what? I can honestly admit that I have never been so happy to see a Starbucks in my life. I promptly ordered a soy chai latte (that’s for you, Kendra), paid with a bill larger than $5 and the attendant didn’t even blink an eye. She was even polite!
Then, I took a sip of the my soy chai latte. Delicious deliciousness. God bless America.
When an Ecuadorian uses the phrase ya mismo, you are screwed. The phrase actually means “right now” or “soon” but in reality that alternately translates into: a few minutes, a few hours, a few days, a few weeks, a few months, or possibly, a few years. This depends on the Ecuadorian you are talking to and how eager they are to do whatever it is they have told you they are going to do. I am not the first PCV to write about this infuriating phrase (see Moritz Thomsen’s book about his experience in the 1960’s as a PCV in Ecuador entitled “Living Poor”).
The context of this is that I have been apartment hunting for a “room of my own” (a lá Virginia Woolf) since I arrived in site. It’s been a little frustrating because my town is old, small, and built on a rock. There’s just not much new construction around here.
During my housing search, I looked at six different locations, all of which didn’t work for various reasons: they didn’t meet strict Peace Corps criteria, they were totally unfinished, or the rent was far above my PC rental allowance. I found a prospective place at the end of October, and have spent the last few months, in between working, trying to get a suitable apartment built.
In a country like Ecuador, getting anything built is like paying off the external debt. Sorry, IMF, you’ll probably never see that money again. There was a lot of turnover in terms of workers who would take off without a word, intermittent problems with water, and the completion date got pushed back three times. When it was finally ready, it was two months after the original date that the owner quoted me. Oh, and during the construction, I heard ya mismo more times than I can count.
“When are you putting in the windows?” Ya mismo.
“Is the water working yet?” Ya mismo.
“Did that part arrive?” Ya mismo.
“Are the workers going to show up today?” Ya mismo.
A friend of mine pointed out that my problem is that I tend to believe people when they tell me things; I don’t like to think that people are disingenuous. However, there is an enormous cultural gap between the American concept of being straightforward even if the truth hurts and the Latin American concept of, well, ya mismo. Basically, when asked a difficult question, Ecuadorians would rather tell you something that is not true but that they think will make you happy rather than the unpleasant truth. But people here do not consider this to be lying! This is where I get very very very American. I would prefer someone to be honest with me than to tell me a pleasant lie. But this is not how things are done in Ecuador. A fellow PCV said to me, “People hate to see the look of disappointment on your face, so they would rather tell you something that will placate you for the time being rather than the truth.” This drives me f*$%ing bananas! I can’t even begin to describe my Ecua-rage when this kind of crap happens. And it happens ALL. THE. TIME. Now to those of you who find this a gross generalization and/or offensive, I challenge you to travel through Latin America and try to get something built. Even easier, just try to ask for directions. Just try it. Buena suerte.
To finish my apartment saga, my landlord hired two hard-working Colombians (they were awesome), and the apartment was finally finished in December. I love sitting in my blue kitchen, looking at the tiles I picked out, eating food that I cooked on my little cocineta (stove). I have hot water to shower and the sink that doesn’t leak. Naturally, the apartment is still lacking according to Peace Corps regulations, which I’m convinced exists solely to make my life miserable. If my APCD is reading this, I’m just kidding!
My two Colombian friends left for a different construction job, but they built me a wonderful place I can call my own for the rest of my time in Peace Corps (knock on wood). Un million de gracias! If any friends want to visit me in southern Ecuador, let me know and you’ll have a place to stay.
An RPCV (Returned Peace Corps Volunteer) friend recently emailed me an op-ed piece published in the New York Times entitled “Too Many Innocents Abroad.” Written by Robert L. Strauss, a former Peace Corps volunteer, recruiter and country director, it was scathing in its criticism of the relative inexperience of the young Americans that serve abroad in the Peace Corps.
An excerpt:
“For the Peace Corps, the number of volunteers has always trumped the quality of their work, perhaps because the agency fears that an objective assessment of its impact would reveal that while volunteers generate good will for the United States, they do little or nothing to actually aid development in poor countries. The agency has no comprehensive system for self-evaluation, but rather relies heavily on personal anecdote to demonstrate its worth.”
Pretty harsh stuff. As I look around at some of my fresh-out-of-college fellow PCVs, I reluctantly have to agree with some of Strauss’ criticisms regarding inexperience. Some of this probably reflects anxiety over my own adequacy (or inadequacy) as a volunteer. “Am I doing any good here?” Yes, Peace Corps as an institution probably could use some tweaking, but what is Strauss calling for? An abolition of the agency entirely?
Thoughts?
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/09/opinion/09strauss.html?ref=opinion
Edited to add: Read a response from Senator Chris Dodd (D-CT), who served as a PCV in the Dominican Republic.
When it comes to teaching methods, I’m a little uncomfortable with how Ecuadorian schoolchildren are generally taught. Teachers emphasize rote memorization and repetition, often reinforced with corporal punishment for misbehavior. On the other hand, as a child of the “Me decade” who was weaned on Sesame Street, I usually prefer the carrot vs. the stick method when it comes to learning.
For example, I have a basic nutrition charla (talk) that I give to schoolchildren, after which we play a fun game of Bingo to uideally reinforce the concepts they have just learned. I usually give out prizes to the winners of each game, which are usually not very nutritious (what am I supposed to give out, broccoli florets?).
Anyway, the cultural differences in teaching styles was hammered home for me recently as I’ve been giving charlas with my counterpart. We’ll go to the schools and give these charlas, but at the point where I might smile benignly and playfully quiz the kids on what we’ve learned, she’ll go into this very intense session, where she asks the kids to parrot back to her the information they’ve just been taught. When they don’t know the answer she gets angry and berates them for not listening. It’s almost drill-seargent-esque, and it bothers me that young children are being hassled to parrot what an adults says and that is considered “learning.”
I’ve also experienced this on the personal level, as I watched a good friend (my age) attempt to teach her 6 year old daughter math. She would say a number and then had her child repeat it; she did this over and over until both of them were in tears. And then she wailed to me, “I am going to die of frustration teaching this child!” I volunteered to sit down with the girl and tried to make the math lesson into a little game. It’s not that she didn’t know the numbers, I think she was just frustrated and scared by an adult yelling at her for an answer.
I guess I remember being a kid and learning a lot more when teachers and parents made learning fun and interesting. Not that everything has to be all Sesame Street all the time, but how can you expect a 6 year old to learn something when it’s as boring as mud? I don’t know. Maybe this is another one that we can chalk up to cultural differences.
In no particular order:
- The part of southern Ecuador where I live used to be covered with Ceibo trees (known as the Baobab tree in Africa, like the infamous baobobs in The Little Prince!), these majestic, Dr. Seussian trees look like they came from another world. It being winter here, they stand out as the only thing around that is green. Apparently even their bark is photosynthetic, which is awesome. I think they are beautiful.
- Going to the beach had a dark side. That is, for virtually every day that I was at the beach, I came home and was sick in bed with a gross upper respiratory infection (i.e. a really bad cough). There is nothing worse than waking up at 2am in the morning with a fever in a foreign country, realizing that you are completely alone and all you want is your mother. *sigh*
- It’s winter here, which means that it has rained every night since I’ve gotten back from the coast. I didn’t really believe people when they said it got cold here, but it is now cold enough at night that I can see my breath. Add the nightly downpour, and I feel as if the weather here is prepping me for my return visit to Seattle.
- We recently got an ATM in my site, which is a big deal in my small town. The whole process of putting in the ATM was very Ecuadorian, as in that it took weeks and for the first few weeks after it was installed, it didn’t work. However, that did not stop the guards at the bank from ceremoniously covering and uncovering the ATM every morning and night with a green cloth, as if tucking in a small child. I wish I had my camera to take a picture of it!
- I <3 Barack Obama. Ever since I heard his incredible speech when he was still an unknown at the 2004 Democratic Convention to when I saw him at a rally in Seattle right before I left…this man is amazing. He has rock star charisma, professorial eloquence, community organizing experience, and a message that conveys HOPE instead of division. I feel as if he has given the Democratic status-quo a swift kick in the pants. I’ve been waiting eight years for this November. Another reason I’m excited to be going home in February, so I can cast my vote for Obama in the WA state caucus!
Happy 2008! I’m finally back from spending New Year’s at Montañita, one of the most famous surfing beaches in Ecuador. Montañita is a party town with a beautiful beach and killer surf, and for New Year’s it was madness. Imagine more gringos than you have ever seen in your life crowded into a tiny one-street town where there are roughly as many bars as hostels and the music literally never stops blaring. Pity those who wanted to get to sleep before 5am. Oh, you didn’t want to listen to Jack Johnson on repeat for days? Too bad.
Our hostel had intermittent (cold) water and electricity, and the hygiene left a lot to be desired. I lost my voice (thanks, Kendra) and my camera got stolen (thanks, Nat). However, the food was fantastic, the people were beautiful, and the water was perfect. I missed the Seattle cold for Christmas, but nothing beats watching the sun set over the warm Pacific Ocean in December.
We counted down to midnight on the beach with hundreds of other revelers from around the world, as a lineup of surfers waded into the water. Fireworks went off as we danced to a fantastic live band in a sandy bar, and I spent the first morning of 2008 on the beach some of my best friends.
Pictures are courtesy of my friend Alicia, since I am now camera-less.
Cheers!
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