The Flight(s) home, and two days in Texas

Dear friends and loved ones:

I arrived at Miami International Airport on Monday evening, March 5th, at 11:30 p.m. By midnight I had wound my way from the LAN Airlines arrival gate through that huge, spread-out, and currently under re-construction airport, finally making my way to and through Immigration and Customs. With an international arrival, even with a connecting flight, you have to receive your bag, go through Customs, and then re-enter your bag into the systems through security. Of course, after midnight, there are no open ticket counters and nobody to receive bags until the next day.

No matter when I returned from Ecuador, I was going to face this problem. You arrive at midnight, get your bags outside of security, and the next plane out is close to 7 a.m. I figured I had to wait until 4 or 5 a.m. for anybody to be there to receive the bags. My task now was to find a place to sit down and try to relax while I counted down the hours.

I found an area near the American Airlines counters with benches of armed chairs which had been pushed up-close, enabling one to sit in one chair and put one's feel in the other chair, directly in front of you. I gathered my bags close at hand, using my backpack to weave the bags together on the off cance that I would fall asleep. Then I ensconsed myself in a seat with my feet before me, listening to the repeating series of announcements (every 15 minutes) on the loud speaker: the Mayor and members of the County Commission welcoming me to Miami and The Beaches; The requirement to smoke outside in designated areas; the convenience of the newly remodeled airport that I can look forward to some time in the future; the convenience of using a quart-sized, zip-log bag for all liquid carry-ons (no more than 3 ounces, each); the time (with a loud gong!); the need for my vigilance with regards to watching my bags; and a few others that have, luckily, slipped my mind.

I came up with the strategy to cover-up the repeating, blaring announcements. I say blaring because the volume on the sound system had been adjusted to overcome the loud noise in a crowded, busy airport. After midnight, with hardly anybody around, the system is way too loud. My strategy was to listen to Brahms on my iPod and read a book. It somewhat worked, as I was able to hear all of the first three symphonies and read several chapters of my book. Then, exhausted, I tried to get comfortable enough to sleep for a couple of house. I rested my hips atop my luggage, both for the support and on the assumption that anybody trying to gain access to bags that were under me would probably wake me up.

I think I slept for about 20 minutes. Then came the large, riding-lawn-mower-sized floor cleaning, waxing and buffing machines. They pulled up beside me and parked, leaving the "beep, beep, beep" and flashing yellow strobe light running while the drivers of the two machines chatted with each other. A large assortment of other airport maintenance and cleaning staff gathered around the still-running machines, and they certainly had a loud and engaging conversatio. It wasn't until around four a.m. that the party broke-up, as TSA staff started to arrive for their day's work and airline personnel started to arrive and patronise the just-opening Starbucks.

I got up, re-arranged my bags for moving, and wandered off in search of a bathroom and then a walk.

By 4:45 a.m. a ticket counter opened up. I popped in line to check my bags, and by 5:05 a.m. I was on my way to security. Because of my stomach problems I had been afraid of eating, having not eaten anything since breakfast on Monday morning. I decided to forgo coffee or anything to eat and trudged on to my gate. There I sat until 6:15 a.m., listing to CNN Headline News blaring on a television across the terminal. It was the first English language news I had heard in two months, and I couldn't help but sit in rapt attention, even across the bredth of the terminal.

I was crammed into a tight window-seat for the 4 hour flight to Texas. I was terribly uncomfortabe the whole flight. My preference is always to sit on the aisle, where I have the illusion of not being so closed-in and trapped. Still, I often had to do relaxation exercises to keep myself calm and relaxed. Airplane seats are not built to help big, tall people sit comfortable.

My seat-mates were a father and son from Ecuador who were traveling to visit family in the Pacific Northwest. I had seen them on my LAN Airlines flight to Miami. We chatted a bit in Spanish, and I helped them understand where they would need to go in the Dallas/Fort Worth airport to help them make their flight. Also, on the flight from Ecuador to Miami my seat-mate had been a woman from Chile. I recognized her accent immediately, which made me very happy. As is my custom on airplanes, I only chatted as little as necessary. That often surprises my friends, as extroverted and chatty as I am. On airplanes, though, I prefer to keep to myself and not engage in conversation.

We arrived about 10 minutes early, and by 9:05 I had my bags and was standing outside of the airport, waiting for my father. He found me quickly enough, and we were very glad, indeed, to see each other. Even though I had no second thoughts about my early return from South America, the look in my father's eyes and in his whole body language, along with my own feelings of sheer joy, confirmed that I had made the right decision.

He asked me to drive, and we headed off in search of a breakfast restaurant on the road between the airport and Denton. We found a good place to eat in Lewisville. By 10:30 a.m. we were back in Dad's house, and I was sorting through things and doing laundry. My stomach was still giving me a lot of trouble, so I called the office of Dad's doctor to make an appointment. I was able to get an appointment for Wednesday morning, the next day.

That afternoon we went to an Apple Store and I purchased a new MacBook Pro computer, to replace the computer I had fried on day number 2 in South America. I had been planning on buying a new computer this year, having budgeted for it. My plan had been to buy it in May. It just didn't make sense to go through the hassle and expense of repairing the old computer when I was going to replace it in a few months anyway. Luckily for me, I had backed-up just about everything to a hard drive in Ann Arbor before I left the country. When I get home at the end of the month, I should be able to migrate all of that to the Mac.

On the way home from the Apple Store we stopped by Marie's house -- Dad's girlfriend. It was an unannounced visit, but she welcomed us gladly and warmly. We had a delightful visit. Then I dropped dad at the church where he joined a group of men who were serving as waiters at a banquet of his church's United Methodist Women group. Marie was so funny. As we left her house to go to the church, she said, "Now, Chester, remember. You goal is to get the food on the table, not on anybody's lap!" We all laughed a lot, especially my father.

Tuesday I kept my doctor's appointment. Scott sent me for blood work, and, uh... other tests. He also gave me an antibiotic -- my third antibiotic, and fourth medicine, to try to knock-out this bug. So far, any time I eat anything, I've got problems. Thank heavens, there isn't any other problem -- no nausea, dizziness, weakness, etc. Only the one, MAJOR problem. So I am hopeful that the medicine will knock it out this time. if not, well, then we'll move on to the next attempted solution.

Dad and I have decided to head to Knoxville for the weekend. My sister and brother-in-law are free all this weekend, and have a lot of time open at the beginning of the week. So, Dad has serviced the van and we'll pack this morning. Then, off to Knoxville. I asked the doctor about the wisdom about heading out of town, and he said that the cultures would take several days before he knew anything definative. If I should have problems still, the next treatment likely won't be able to start until mid-week next week, anyway. So -- off we go!

I thank you for all of the supportive and affirming notes I have received since my post about leaving Ecuador. I also thank you for the blessings of your love, care and prayers. I sure continue to need them! How I long to be well again!

Take care. I will continue to reflect and write about my thoughts and experiences in this blog. So far, I've not had much time to put my trip into perspective.


Again, many thanks. Know that I love and appreciate you dearly.

Grace and peace,
-- Bill

Adiós, Quito. ¡Hola, Texas!

It is official, friends. I´m heading back to the United States, early.

Today I canceled my program here in Quito and changed my airline ticket from the middle of March to today. Lord willing, by tomorrow morning (Tuesday, March 6th), I will arrive at the Dallas/Fort Worth International Airport. By this time tomorrow I will be with my father, in Denton. This brings joy to my heart, and gives a lift to my step.

I have been so very unhappy here in Quito. You have heard some of my problems with my profesora at the school. Believe me, there is much more to tell that I have chosen not to put in blog form -- partially for possible liability issues. Suffice it to say, there have been serious problems. Additionally, it has not helped that I have been unhappy in my homestay setting here. And the city pretty much reminds me of the bad things about my years in Detroit, minus the many things I loved (and love) so dearly about that city. It has been so difficult to be here this last week. That is an understatement.

To put it in another way, despite my best efforts, I have not made any connection here -- personal, physical, geographical, cultural, spiritual. No doubt my being sick hasn´t helped. (I´m still not over the diarrhea problems.) But there has been so much more. It has been a difficult, sad experience for me.

And so, I gave it my best effort, putting my best foot forward for a week. I do not want to end my South American experience with three weeks of feeling miserable. For this reason, after much prayer, I decided to end my studies here after one week and return to the States.

I spoke with the director of the school at length today, and both he and I were glad for that. He thanked me that I was direct with him, sharing my concerns and the reasons for my leaving. ("Usually, people just leave and don´t tell us why.") He also expressed his concern that I had experienced prejudice from a member of their staff. I suggested they need to do awareness training with regards to human sexuality. I also made some recommendations for adjustments to the structure of their program. I figured as long as I had his ear, I was going to tell him what I thought! He thanked me, and also complimented me on my effective use of Spanish. That felt good.

I came to sabbatical with a couple of major goals. Obviously, to re-learn Spanish was primary. I feel good about my progress with the language. I also longed to familiarize myself with new countries and cultures in Latin America, and I feel good about my progress in that area as well. Unknown to me was the insight I would have into being "the stranger" and being welcomed. Hospitality has been a big part of my experience here, and for that, I am grateful. I have learned ever so much! And I am a better person for it.

As I reflect in my final moments in South America -- for a while, anyway! -- I am exceedingly grateful for all of my experiences. The "Latin Immersion," ECELA schools in Buenos Aires and Santiago were top-rate, and I could not be happier with my experiences there. My homestays in those countries were also wonderful experiences. I will be forever grateful for the welcome I felt in those places, for the academic excellence of the schools and their staff, and for the blessing of getting to immerse myself in new cultures. What a gift!

As to Quito. Well. No doubt I will have positive things to say down the road a bit. But today, at this very moment, from my perspective right now, more than anything else, I am releaved to be leaving. Adiós.

Just so you know, I do not plan to return to Michigan early. I will take more time in Texas with my father than I had planned, and that will be a gift for both of us. It is possible that he and I will take a road trip -- perhaps to Knoxville, if that can be worked out with my sister and her family. I will take a long overdue trip to Kansas City to visit my friends, Phyllis and her daughter, Susanna. And I still look forward to my trip to California that I had planned for the end of the month, along with the train trip up the west coast and across the country. Much to do, and miles to go. Many blessings ahead. And behind. As always.

Thank you for your prayers, and for the blessing of your love and support.

Grace and peace,

-- Bill

La Mitad del Mundo (The Middle of the World)

North meets South on the Equator.

Walking the Line -- with my eyes closed.

The guide and my profesora were impressed

by how very well balanced I am!

Water draining (without a whirlpool) over the equator.



Who can balance a raw egg on its end? I can!
On the Equator, anyway.




The newer, "Scientific" site of the Ecuatorial line.
This picture is taken from outside the park´s security boundry.

Today my profesora and I went to La Mitad del Mundo, or the Middle of the World, the place just north of Quito where the equator is marked clearly -- in two different places! The round-trip took the 4 hours of class time, and of that, it was a little more than one hour by two buses in each direction to travel to the sites.

First, we went to the "Historic Site", the Iti-Ñan Museo, the Museum of the Way of the Sun. The guide books call this place hand-made and a little hokey, and I´d have to agree with them. The exhibits ranged from jars and jars of poorly preserved, bleached-white snakes, a model of the Galapogos Islands (sin agua), a reputedly ancient dwelling repleate with medicinal guinnie pigs (how do you spell that?) an "authentic," ancient grave site and artisans weaving wall hangings and rugs. Of particular interest, of course, were the experiments related to the equator.

One exercise was to close your eyes, hold your arms out (I hadn´t caught the part about putting your thumbs up in the air) and trying to walk the line. I followed it pretty well. Though the picture shows one foot straying slightly, when I opened my eyes, I was right on target. When repeating the same exercise to the north or south, the result wasn´t the same.

Another experiement had to do with water draining from a sink. On the equatorial line, the water drained directly from the bucket without a whirlpool. To the south, the water swirled in a clockwise direction. To the north, the water swirled in a counter-clockwise direction. Cool! I have little videos of all of that. Of course, the question is, was it just a trick, or not? The guy turned the sink one quarter turn as he moved it south, and a quarter turn in the other direction as he moved it to the north. Now, I´ve got to say that I had done my own experiment with this on my sabbatical. I had previously noticed that the water down south swirled backwards from what happens back home in the states.

The final experiement was just too cool. It was a test to balance a raw egg on its end. Of course, you can´t do that. Many of us have tried, or we have perhaps seen it on "The West Wing." Well, I was one of three people who was able to get the egg to balance on the head of a nail. I did it pretty quickly (of course!), while the others took a while. My profesora just didn´t have the balance to pull it off! But I was awarded a certificate for my outstanding talents, and will cherish it always, or until I lose it, whichever comes first!

Afterward we went to the "Scientific" site, which was selected by satelite a few years ago -- by the French, I think. I don´t quite understand that part, but the profesora and our tour guide did go on a bit about the French. Anyway, we walked over to the site but didn´t pay to go in. My profesora insisted that I should come back on a Sunday when there is lots of folk dancing and the like. Also, I recognized that we had only an hour until class ended, and no doubt she was aware of that fact, too. Nothing like the end of your shift coming to encourage you to move along! So we caught the bus back to the city, changing near an old hospital just west of the old city.

On the way back my profesora wanted us to work, but I would have none of it. I wanted to see the sights out the windows of the bus! So I politely dug-in my heels and refused to do the multiplication tables exercise. (Truly, I need the practice with numbers! But we can do that in the classroom....) Then she fell asleep, and I enjoyed the vistas. Later, she tried to get a theological discussion started, but I politely declined that one, too. I´ve already told her that Christianity is a community-based faith, that she needs to go to church and read the Bible, and then we can talk theology. "Don´t tell me what you THINK the Bible says," I´ve told her, "Or what somebody has TOLD you it says. Read it yourself! Then you can tell me what it actually says!"

In truth, I´m trying to avoid theological discussions when I can. I´ve grown weary of the well-worn path of The God of Justice who punishes sinners, rapists, murders, Hitler and homosexuals. The idea of Divine boundless, radical love and grace is actually disturbing to many of the folks with whom I´ve spoken here in Ecuador.

The one exception is my homestay "mother," Cecilia. She is VERY religious -- Catholic. She faithfully prays regularly, letting down her hair and kneeling beside her bed. She is an environmentalist at heart, has great passion for peace and harmony among the nations and the races, constantly speaks of the blessings of God, and with her, I have not minded the theological conversations. She quickly agreed with me that God loves the whole world, no exception. I believe she is a pediatritian by training, though she only volunteers 2 hours daily at a children´s hospital now. She is gifted with house plants and in gardening. She is also a good cook!

Well, friends, it is time for me to head out into the city and find something interesting (and safe!) to pass this Friday afternoon. Tomorrow I plan to climb to the top of a volcano with friends from the school. That should be fun -- if my stomach will allow it! The journey begins with a ride up a teleferico and we hike/walk from there. I figure if I´m not feeling well, I´ll join the group for the beginning of the journey and then head back down on my own.

Thank you for your prayers. Keep them coming! Believe it or not, there is only one month of sabbatical left now. And I have only two weeks left in South America. I must admit, my heart is glad for time´s progress. It will be good to return to the states, and to get back to the Great Lakes.

Take care. Much love to you all!

From the well balanced... (or Good Egg?)

... Bill

Making Lemonade in Quito

The Virgin of Panecillo (Panecillo being the name of the cerro)

who overlooks the northern part of Quito.

I can see her from my house.

See the dome in the bottom right? It is the remains of a native sun-

religion worship site that was converted to a Catholic shrine centuries ago.

The northern part of Quito.

Historic Quito is in the foreground, with New Quito in the distance.

My house is just in front of that long, green Cerro on the right.

The southern part of Quito (what you can see of it!)

St. Matthew´s Church - built from the ruins

of a native-religion worship site by native slave labor.

Forced to convert to Christianity at point of death,

they built many sun-worship elements

into the structure of this and other churchs. It is fascinating!

This has been rough. First, I have been sick. Sick. SICK! It has been tough going, but finally, I seem to be coming out on the other side of this. I say "seem to be" because... well... you´ll just have to guess what ailment it is that persists! (Escuse me while I run to the bathroom...)

The travel day from Santiago to Quito was terrible, especially in the morning. I had to get up at 4 a.m. to await a 4:45 a.m. transfer to the airport. Not wanting to miss the van, I went outside 15 minutes early. Well, I waited. And I waited. And when the driver was 30 minutes late, Daniel (who kindly got up to wait with me and bid me farewell) called the transfer company. Sure enough, the drive had over slept, but was "nearby". Another 15 minutes later, and the driver was there. That´s 45 minutes late, and 60 minutes of standing in the street for me. The only good things from that were the final moments to talk with Daniel, which I cherished, and the final opportunity to marvel once more at the stars of the Southern hemesphere.

Then, to the airport, and to the long line at check in. It amazes me how long it takes to get your ticket and check your bags here, but that has been consistent all along. More than an hour later I was at the counter, my shirt DRENCHED in sweat, my body shaking with severe chills. It was awful. It was then that I realized that I didn´t know the word for "aisle" in Spanish. So I told the woman that I didn´t want to sit by the window, but I wanted to sit toward the door, in the center of the airplane, by the highway. OK, there were probably better words to use, but I was sick! She understood me and I was quite proud of being able to communicate, that is, until I got onboard and foundmyself in the MIDDLE seat of three in the row! Ah, well. I was near the front, and since I slept 3 of the 3 1/2 hours of the flight, it wasn´t really a problem. After an hour lay-over in Lima I found myself between two VERY large men (myself being so small!), and it was the battle of the armwrests all the way to Quito. That is, until I fell asleep, for I slept 1 1/2 of the 2 hour flight.

After being transferred to my homestay in Quito, the house mother, Cecelia, insisted that we go directly to a pharmacy to get medicine to combat the amoeba, and for that, I was grateful. I took it for three days, once a day, and the medicine made me terribly sick to my stomach. That, or the flu. Or the altitude! All in all, it was Wednesday before I felt "alright", and today, Thursday, I feel pretty well -- except for the persistent diarrhea. If I´m not... uh... on solid ground by tomorrow, I will be going to the doctor. Oh, joy! Do keep me in your prayers.

The school experience here is VERY different than in Buenos Aires or in Santiago. This is a "partner" school, but is not related very closely to ECELA, the school of my previous two experiences. Here they have only private lessons -- 4 hours daily, one-on-one with your individual teacher. There is no text, either. You are given a blank booklet and the teacher crafts the course as you go along. And ohmygosh, do things ever go fast! We have covered new tenses and modes at astonishing rate. When I said that I was getting dizzy from our fast pace (or is it the altitude?!), my teacher looked shocked. "You use these forms all the time, Bill. You already know this. You just don´t remember that you know it!" And right she is. Nothing has been new. Still, the pace has been dizzying.

The first few days were rough going partly because I was ill, partly because I have been homesick (being as sick as I have been really makes it hard to keep up a positive front!), and partly because my teacher and I had a LOT to work out. She made negative, anti-gay, limp-wristed comments within the first few minutes of class on the first day. When she asked me why I say our church is Liberal, I said it´s because we ordain women (Que bonito!) and ordain homosexuals (tan feo! Horrible!)(feo means ugly!). Needless to say, that didn´t go over well with me! We had a long, drawn-out scriptural argument, and after much explaining, she conceded that a God of Love could probably love homosexuals, but that it would be really difficult for him. Later in the conversation I think it dawned on her, and so she asked me, point blank, "Are you homosexual?" Not being one to lie, I said, "Yes, I am homosexual." That, of course, took us into a long and drawn-out conversation about the God of Justice, the eternal fires of punishment and distruction for murderers, rapists, Hitler and homosexuals, and of the secret name of God that, if you don´t know it, you don´t get into heaven. It is a conversation for which I am well prepared, I´ll admit, but is also exceedingly draining and discouraging. I left it feeling exhausted, bruised and vulnerable.

Needless to say, I was not comfortable. I contemplated packing everything and heading home, but that felt like a bad idea to me. Even if I could get a refund, this was an unsatisfactory solution. Another idea was to complain to the management of the school. Ecuador actually has an anti-descrimination law to protect homosexuals, and no doubt, that would come in handy. In the end, I decided to confront my profesora directly, telling her we either had to come to an agreement or I was going to request a new profesora be assigned to me.

Well, the conversation went far better than I ever could have imagined. She has agreed that love shared honestly between two people is a blessing and a gift, and if the two people happen to be of the same sex, well, it must still be love. HUGE progress, if you ask me. And she also said she was sorry for having made negative handgestures on the first day, that she was trying to be funny and hadn´t realized how offensive it was. WOW. That´s progress, too. Bit by bit I am feeling more and more comfortable with her, and I figure I can manage 2 more weeks, regardless. She is helping me with my Spanish. And she is going out of her way to help me know places I can go and things I can do in the city. For this, I am very grateful.

So... it seems life has given me a basket-full of lemons here in Ecuador. But I have chosen to make lemonade! And while my heart still longs to worship and sing God´s praises at COGS, and my soul aches to hear the voices of my family and friends, and to play with my cat, to cook in my kitchen, to drink coffee with friends at Sweetwaters Cafe on W. Washington, or to go to ABC, or Joe T. Garcia´s in Texas -- I´d better stop, I´m going to cry! While my heart longs for HOME in more ways that I can say, I give thanks to God that I have these final days to polish my Spanish, to get familiar with this new city and a new culture, and to complete my South American Sabbatical with a sense of the many, many blessings I have received.

Do hold me in your prayers. Please! Quito is not as safe as I had thought (or hoped) it would be. They say 75% of tourists get mugged, pick-pocketed or drugged. I at first found those numbers hard to believe, but also have heard sufficient first or second-hand stories from other students that lead me, more and more, to believe the statistics. I am being EXCEEDINGLY caucious. I NEVER carry more than $20 on me at any time. You don´t need much money, anyway. My most expensive lunch thus far was $1.50. I carry nothing valuable with me other than my camera. I never go out alone at night, and I won´t stray from the "known" safe areas. If there aren´t a lot of people around, I don´t go there! If it is late in the afternoon, I take a taxi home. Still, having my guard set on high all the time is so terribly exhausting.

Now, I´m not asking you to worry! I will do EVERYTHING I can to keep myself safe and sound. I haven´t suddenly gotten dim-whitted! I have a lot of street smarts, and I will take every precaution possible! Yet I need, and I ask for, your love, prayers and good thoughts -- prayers for my safety, my health and well-being, and for my finding many blessings in these final days.

Quite the Lenten Journey, eh?

Take care beloved ones. While it seems forever before I will be back in the ´States, it truly won´t be long now.

"Soon, and very soon."

With all my love,

-- Bill

Humble Pie, "La Gripe" and my final days in Santiago

My Intermedio 1A class: Guille from Michigan, Angela from Montreal,

Sarah from Italy, Veronica (profesora), Anne Marie from Switzerland,

and Dima from Palestine.

George and Gail, from Arizona. Gail was in my class last week.

They´re sitting in an amphlatheatre/fountain

in front of the Pablo Neruda house in Santiago.

Aloe Vera.

A weaver of chair seats on a street corner in Bellavista, my neighborhood.

A bit of a strange picture -- our clothes washer!

The orange ball is the measure of laund detergent.

My laundry, drying.

Chocolate covered marshmallows. A bag of 10 costs about $0.18 U.S.

Today I took the exam for Intermedeo 1A. Things were complicated both by my having had only one week with the class (what, my having advanced one week early to this level), and also by my being sick with la gripe -- the flu! I noticed yesterday afternoon that I was feeling absolutely exhausted, and also that I was having hot and cold flashes. Well, by this morning, it was pretty much a full-blown flu bug for me, which left me in a tough place. I was having a horrible time being able to think in Spanish, let alone remember irregular verbs or even common words that I´ve used for years. On top of that, there really was no option for me as to when to take the test. Normally, they would allow a sick person to come back on Monday to take the test. But I leave for Quito, Ecudaor on Sunday morning. It was today or nothing! I decided to plow on and take the test, seeing if I could swing a passing grade (75 or higher).

As it turns out, I did just that. I made an 83. This is my lowest grade in this program by far! But the truth is that, if 75 passes you on to the next level, then 83 is respectable. In fact, my tutor from last week and several friends on the staff of the school said, "That´s a GOOD grade, Guille! You should be very happy!" And so I am. I passed! And now I can move on to the next level of intermediate when I move to Ecuador on Sunday.

After school I came home and slept 7 hours! The "farewell party" is at the school tonight, but I just couldn´t go. Students who are departing always make a speach, and I was ready to do so. However, there was no way I had the energy to get to the school tonight, even by taxi. I´ve not even left the upstairs since I climbed the narrow, spiral staircase at noon.

Much to my delight, the director of the school called me to let me know that she was sorry that I was sick, and that I would be missed tonight at the party. Daniel just climbed the stairs to offer to drive me to the school, but honestly -- I feel AWFUL. It´s time to stay home, sleep, and try to recover. Hopefully, I´ll be beyond this before I move on to Quito on Sunday. I sure don´t look forward to flying with the flu, and negotiating airports and customs in three countries while I feel so sick (Chile, Peru & Educador). But I can´t worry about that now. Tonight, I will rest. "After all, tomorrow is another day," to quote Scarlet O´Hara. And Sunday is an other day after tomorrow. "Sufficient unto the day," to quote a more reputable source.

I thought I´d name a few of the things I am missing right now. 1. Being able to flush toilet paper! 2. Tumble-dried clothes. 3. My cat. 4. My queen-sized bed. 5. Being able to call friends and family on the telephone. True, I could do that from here with a calling card, but I´ve avoided that for fear of getting too homesick if I hear the voices of my loved ones! And finally, 6. Being able to cook my own food in my own kitchen. Funny, the every-day things you miss the most. Of course, I miss the church, my work, my life in Ann Arbor. And honestly, most of the time I´m just living my life here, not even thinking about what I do or don´t miss. I´m just living day by day. But there are moments when I think, "Gosh, it will be nice when I get to...." And so it will. Three more weeks in South America. Five more weeks of sabbatical. It will all pass quickly enough.

Take care, dear friends. Unless my health turns around, I won´t be posting anything else to the blog before I depart Santiago on Sunday. But who knows? This could pass quickly. I sure hope so!

With much love and care,

-- Bill

The Virgin of the Immaculate Conception... and me!

The Virgin of the Immaculate Conception

atop Cerro San Cristobal in Santiago, Chile.

The view from the vantage point of the statue and the shrine.
Note the chapel, the chancel/"stage" and the garden/amphlatheater.

The view to the south (taken from beside the "stage").

The view to the west.

The view to the east.

The view to the southeast.

Jesus? Joseph? Somebody else?

Mark or Marcodos riding in the Funicular.

The Funicular

Looking up the tracks from the bottom of Cerro San Cristobol.

A friendly cat in Bellavista, my barrio, at the base of the Cerro.

Yesterday I ascended to the top of Cerro San Cristobal with my friend and housemate, Mark, from Canada. We call him Marcodos in Spanish because he´s the second student named Marco to live in our house. At any rate, it was Shrove Tuesday and, lacking anything else to do between classes and la cena (supper), which is served anywhere between 8 and 10 p.m., he and I went up to visit the Virgin of the Immaculate Conception.

The Virgin of the Immaculate Conception is a beautiful statue of Mary as a young woman. For those of us who don´t know much about Catholic theology (and I count myself in that group), the Doctrine of the Immaculate Conception became necessary when genetics demonstrated that it takes DNA from both the father and the mother to create a human being. This required the church to discern how it is possible that Jesus could be fully human yet fully divine, that is, pure, without sin, while containing genetic material from both God and Mary at the same time. After much effort the Church was able to discern that not only was Jesus conceived without the tarnish of Original Sin, but so was Mary. Hence, her conception (that is, when she was conceived in her mother´s womb) was an Immaculate Conception. It´s a tricky theological construct, and completely extra biblical (that is, not contained anywhere in the Bible). Yet it is necessary if you´re going to entertain the Doctrine of Original Sin, the Virgin Birth, the Divinity of Christ AND and adhere to modern scientific knowledge about genetics, all at the same time.

ANYWAY... back to my story. Marcodos and I decided to ride the funicular to the top of Cerro San Cristobol. The ride was great, and the vistas, breathtaking. I believe the city is at around 250 meters above sea level and the Cerro is around 800 meters. that doesn´t seem possible, but the numbers were something like that. I remember being surprised when I read them at how high we had ascended in the funicular.

Atop the cerro we walked around to the different observation areas, finally ascending to the statue of the Virgin. First you pass a series of shops selling keep-sakes (recuerdos), plus candy, chips, sodas and the like. Then you take a long series of stairs that lead you to an open air chapel -- rather a cross among an amphlatheatre, a sculpture park and a botanical garden. The seats are established so as to provide clear views of the stage/chancel area and the city beyond. Beyond and above this open-air chapel is the statue itself, high on a pedistal.

Music was being played over a high quality sound system -- Christian hymns and anthems, all in Spanish, of course. The second song played was a Taizé song we have sung at several times at COGS (The Church of the Good Shepherd UCC, the congregation where I serve as Pastor and Teacher in Ann Arbor, Michigan). Pausing to take-in the view of the city below, I instinctively started singing along with the recording -- first in English, but then in Spanish as I was able to hear the words. I wandered toward the seats, the gardens and the sculptures. Towering above everything was the Blessed Virgin of the Immaculate Conception, keeping watch over this vast city of six million inhabitants -- more than 40% of the nation´s population. The song changed and I found myself humming along to an unfamilar hymn, listening to the words as I pursued an course upward. The higher I climbed, the stronger my sense of God´s blessing, of the presence of the Divine among us -- with me -- and of the hope we have in the inevitable, inescapable love and care of God, whom we know in Jesus Christ. Tears came to my eyes.

"Wow," I said to Marcodos. "I never expected this."

"What?" He asked, tenderly. No doubt my emotions showed in my voice.

"Man," I said. "I´m really moved by all this. The music. This worship space. The Virgin. And I´m a protestant!"

"Yea," he said. "It´s pretty cool."

Pretty cool, indeed.

We climbed all the way to the top. Built into the base of the statue is a dome-shaped, small-ish chapel with a over-sized crucifix and an altar, all behind protective steel bars. People had thrown offerings of candybars, bags of chips, flowers and stuffed animals on the floor between the altar and the bars, and bouquets of flowers were piled on either side of the doors. We stood for a moment of reverence before the piled-up offering, the Bible, the Christ. Then Mark and I turned around, moved to the side and sat together in silence on the steps, joining The Blessed Virgin in her vigil over the city. We watched as the sun creeped toward the sea, on the far side of the coastal mountain range, painting the Ándes to the east in ever-changing hues and casting a pal of blinding light across this smog-covered city. Then we descented. To the funicular. To the streets of Bellavista. To our house, and hot servings of homemade postel de choclo with piles of red, juicy tomates y cebolla and vassos of Mc Limon soda -- a heart-warming, comfort-food meal to cut the chill of the night air.

Pretty cool.

Indeed.

An aside. We just had a tremmer. Earthquakes are a part of life here and happen not infrequently. In fact, they have two words in Spanish here for the tremmers, but I don´t remember either one of them at this moment -- one for the little ones and one for the big ones. This was the first that was a bit more than "little". At first it was a not-unusual noise, I thought Daniel was coming up the spiral staircase. But then the whole house started to shake and rattle. Within a few seconds it was all over, and as far as I can tell, nothing really moved. It was only a small(ish) tremmer. But it gives one pause. Especially one from the parts of the world where the earth is less... active.

Take care, dear ones. Thank you for reading. And for your prayers.

Today is Ash Wednesday. I wish you blessings on your Lenten journey.

-- Bill

Valparaiso y Viña del Mar

The sunset from our guest house in Valparaiso.

Not a bad way to transition from daytime to night, eh?

My friends, from all over the world!

Harbor tour by boat.

Passing the late afternoon in our guest house.

The tail end of sunset as the city lights (and ship lights!) come on.

After the Tsunami, escape routes to higher ground

are clearly marked along the pacific.

Sylvia (in white) and I catch-up with our friends on the beach.

At the far end of our beach were horses.

Jorge, one of two guides for the weekend.

He was raised in Quito, Ecuador, my next destination.

It was a beautiful weekend, heightened by the clear skies that followed the unusual summer rain of last Friday. The rain knocked the smog and pollution from the air, gifting us with crystal, clear views of the mountains and ocean. What a blessing!

A group of students from two schools departed Santiago on Saturday morning to spend the weekend in the popular sea-side cities of Valparaiso and Viña del Mar. The former is a centuries-old port city built on the "cerros" (hills, but more like mini-mountains) and cliffs that surround the harbor. Valparaiso is the largest and most important port in all of Chile. The latter city, Viña del Mar, is a new city built over the past few decades on what formerly was fertile farm land, repleat with Casino (Tony Bennett was performing this weekend), CROWDED beaches and lots of fun-in-the-sun activities.

Our schedule was Valparaiso on Saturday and Viña del Mar on Sunday. Our tour guides were laid-back to say the least. Too much so for my taste -- we could have done so much more! But it is hard to meet the needs of a group of 20 people from many different countries and cultures. We took a tour of the harbor in a boat, took a funicular atop a cerro to see the view, visited one of three homes of Pablo Neruda, ate at a seaside restaurant south of town (with a view far more savory than the food!), and listened to Bassa Nova music performed live in a restaurant until the wee hours. Not a bad day! And some of us were lucky enough to stay in a guest house rather than the hostle -- QUITE the stroke of luck, that. We had an AWSOME view of the city, plus our host kept plying us with frigid beer (we didn´t want to offend her!) and warm conversation. It was a delightful and memorable day.

Sunday we had breakfast in the hostle (how lucky we were in our clean, beautiful house with a view!) and then drove around the harbor to Viña del Mar. After wasting a lot of time doing a whole lot of nothing we finally wound our way to the north to a beautiful and not crowded beach, where we passed the afternoon. After eating empanadas (I had one with shrimp and cheese, another with tomate, mushroom and ham and a third one with chicken and... uh... something else delicious!) the majority of our group headed right to the beach. A new German friend of mine (Sylvia, an English teacher) and I walked the shopping district to stay in the shade a while longer, then heading to the beach to walk barefoot in the water and, later, join our friends. Quite the day!

As we left the beach I felt my first case of stomach-trouble in South America. I blame it on the empanadas -- fried here in Chile. In Buenos Aires they were baked! At any rate, we stopped at a gas station before heading on the highway to Santiago, an hour and a half ride with NO rest areas. This night it took us more than two hours due to the traffic. On summer Sundays driving from Valparaiso to Santiago is not unlike trying to head south in Michigan. You spend a lot of time sitting on the highway, wondering if you´ll ever get home. Lucky for me, I ...uh ... took care of business before we left the gas station. Needless to say, I didn´t eat anything else that night. By today (Tuesday) I felt back to normal.

This is my last week in Chile, and I´m starting to have feelings like those I had in Buenos Aires. I don´t want to leave! But Quito is next on my schedule, and no doubt I´ll feel the same way about that city as I have these previous two.

Let me end with a word about my Intermedio 1A class at school. And the word is... FANTASTIC!!! I am so very glad I advanced a week early. Unlike my previous classes with ECELA (my school), now I have to WORK to keep up with what is going on. My teacher, Veronica, doesn´t speak English. By that, I don´t mean to say that she doesn´t speak to us in English, though that is certainly the case. She doesn´t speak English -- that is, isn´t fluent in the language. She is fluent in Spanish (of course!) and German, and while she no doubt has a cursory knowledge of English, she speaks nary a word of it in class. That pleases me no end! FINALLY, I´m having to communicate ONLY in Spanish in class. And all but one student in the class speaks as well or better than I do, so just about everybody gives me a run for the money every day. What fun! Plus, Veronica is an outstanding teacher. Every teacher I´ve had in this program is good, but she really knows how to keep you on your toes, let me tell you. I couldn´t be happier! OK, I could be happier. If I had more time in her class! Ah, well. One week is better than none, and I am certainly happy to meet the challenge of Intermedio 1A before I complete my work here in Santiago.

I´ve got at least a couple of other experiences here I hope to write about, but I will save those for another day. Time to study reflexive verbs! Such an interesting way to speak. "I wash myself the teeth," for example, or "the homework it forgot me." What a wonderful language! About the only thing I like better than reflexives is double negatives. In Spanish, it´s not only alright to use double negatives, it is expected. "I don´t have no time to type now," for example. Can you beat that?

Take care, beloved ones. Thanks for your ongoing prayers, love and care. How very dearly I appreciate you!

-- Bill

Adiós, Principiante 2B. ¡Hola, Intermedio 1A!

My Principiante 2B class

Peter 1 from Toronto, Bill 1 (Guillermo) from Austin, Texas, Isabel from Santiago (profesora), Bill 2 (Guille) from Ann Arbor, Gail from Tuscon, Arizona and Peter 2 from St. Paul, MN

Filipe, my private tutor this and last week.

Oops. An ostrich at the zoo. I guess I told the computer to send the wrong photo! It was supposed to be classmates of mine. Ah, well... Birds of a Feather, and all that!

Hola, amigos y familia. Espero que estan bien y felíz.

Now that it´s over, I can share with you something that was making me VERY nervous all week. I had spoken with my tutor about the possibility of advancing more rapidly, finishing the "Principiante" section of their course of studies and moving into "Intermedio" early. Well, he thought it was PRECISELY what I need to do, and not only that, he went to the academic director and arranged for me to take the test on Friday (today!). Of course, as soon as he told me I´d have the exam (and this was the EUREKA! day of functioning easily in Spanish!), suddenly I could say NOTHING clearly in EITHER Spanish OR English! Oh, how I HATE performance anxiety!

So... I studied and I practiced and I prepared, going through everything else in the Principiante 2B book that we might cover in the coming week to prepare myself for the test, and I pretty much got myself all worked up and worried. The tutor, my teacher, the acting academic dean, the staff, my homestay family, my friends... EVERYBODY said, "You´ll be FINE. You KNOW this. You´re doing GREAT!" And, of course, I didn´t believe a word of it. (Except I did believe it in my heart of hearts, only was afraid to believe it.)

I also learned that the exam following Principiante 2B is more difficult than the others. Because it permits a change of levels, the exam is more thorough and also, one is required to have a higher score. In the past, one only needs a 75. But to advance to Intermedio 1A one must achieve an 80 or better. Granted, I´d not gotten below a 92 thus far. Still, I worried.

That was Tuesday. Then came Thursday, and my classroom teacher gave me the practice sheets. It was hard, and there was one section for which I had to move ahead in our text and study ahead of the class (algún, algunas, alguna vez, nadie, nunca, poco, mucho, etc. and et. al.). The rest seemed pretty-much familiar. Still, I studied irregular verbs like a mad-person (or, at least, a dedicated one!), and I reviewed everything I could think to review. By the time I went to sleep on Thursday night, I knew I´d pass the test. I hoped and prayed I´d do well, of course, but also that the test would be a good reflection of where I am in my Spanish skills.

My test was scheduled for 12:30 p.m. However, following the second break period, at noon, I requested to go ahead and take the test. I was escourted by the acting Academic Dean to the upper floor, to a small classroom at the rear of the building, and given the test. First, oral questions (10 of them). I was impressed that she spoke the questions at the normal speed of Chilean Spanish. I only had to ask her to repeat one question. Then followed all of the other sections, including a "reading for comprehension" section and a paragraph to be written in future tense. Sure enough, it was significantly harder than any test to date, but even as I took it, I had a good sense that I´d pass without a problem. It took about an hour and a quarter to complete.

After the test the Acting Dean invited me to join the other students for Friday lunch (tacos! And it was considered exotic! The first "Mexican" food we´ve had, though it was NOT spicy at ALL, as is the case with all of their food here). After that I returned to the office, and...

...92! A score with which I was VERY pleased. This time, half the deducted points were for things I didn´t recall having known, and the other half were things that I have learned but didn´t remember at the time. All in all, a fair accessment of my Spanish abilities to date.

The Acting Dean sat with me to explain my errors and encourage me to learn a few principles in particular. She also shared with me what I need to study over the weekend in order to catch-up with the class I will be joining on Monday. (They have completed 50% of the studies for their -- OUR -- level.) And the last part made me laugh. She said that I speak Spanish VERY WELL, and that I will have to sit patiently in class and allow the other students to practice speaking! I explained that I´m an extrovert and often "talk to think," and she laughed so hard, she almost fell from her chair. "Well, then," she said, "next week, you will get to practice listening patiently to your fellow students." Fair enough! She also congratulated me and complimented me on how well I am doing.

Yippee!

This weekend a group of students is going to Valparaiso, a sea-side city about 1 1/2 hours from Santiago. That´s Saturday and Sunday. I figure that I´ll study while everybody is at the beach (what, with my need and desire to avoid the harsh sun). Then, on Monday... on to Intermedio 1A!


Thanks for sharing in my joy, and also for your love and support. It means more than I possibly can say.

-- Bill

Middle Day - el 14 de febrero de 2007

Plaza Italia in the middle of Santiago, at sunset (9 p.m.-ish)

There are mountains in the background, but they´re obscured by smog this evening.

El Cerro San Cristobal, which has a statue of the Blessed Virigin atop it. I live in a house at the foot of the cerro. See the first tall building to the right at the hill´s foot? Look down across the green below it to the first patch of gray. My house is in that gray patch, to the left, about 50 yards from the cerro.

A walkway through a park that runs much of the lenght of the city´s center.

I cross this river every day on my way to and from school. Believe it or not, there is a 6-lane highway that runs underneath this river.

Again, there are mountains hidden in the smog. Can you make them out?

Elena prepares Sunday´s supper, which consisted of a LOVELY salad, boiled redskin potatoes with a brilliant garlic sauce, and fresh fruit.

Today marks the middle of my sabbatical. As hard as it is to believe, I have now completed 4 1/2 weeks in South America and 6 1/2 weeks of sabbatical. And that is precisely how much time remains in South America and in my sabbatical as a whole, respectively. Can that be possible?


I´m not going to make observations today. I simply wanted to pass along a few more pictures of Santiago and mention the milestone that has been passed this day.


OK, one observation!


Life is precious, and moves with tremendous dispatch. I pray always to be able to cherish my days as I have been able to do each and every moment spent here in America del Sur. Perhaps what it takes is an awareness that this day (in truth, like every day) is a special opportunity -- to see, to touch, to taste, to laugh, to cry, to embrace, to speak and hear in new ways, to step out in faith... and to sense the Blessings God has bestowed, on me, on you, on everyone and everything, everywhere.




Peace, dear ones. And much love. From very far away...

-- Bill

By Jove, I think he´s got it!

It has happened! EUREKA! The break-through!

All at once, it occurred to me -- I´m speaking Spanish! OK, that may seem like a strange thing to say, for, after all, I´ve been speaking Spanish pretty much full-time or a whole month now, but yesterday, it suddenly dawned on me that I was speaking fluently and rapidly with the very peope of whom I had thought, "Oh, I´ll never be able to understand him/or her!"

In the afternoon, after classes, I was carrying on a conversation with Señora Lucy, the maid/cook of our family, and with La Abuela ("grandmother," the mother of our house mother). On the first day, I had been TOTALLY unable to understand ANYTHING they said. And also, after dinner, during the sobre mesa (the table conversation following supper), I found myself speaking easily with the young Chilean woman who lives with us, and also with the house mother. No problema! Even my housemate commented on it today, saying, "I heard you down there last night, Bill" (he had gone upstairs), "and you sounded like a chilean!"

Then there was class today. During he second break, I was speaking with my teacher about whether or not I should try to advance a level early, and in the middle of the conversation I realized that my fellow students were stairing at me, mouths agape. "You´re talkin´90 to nothin´!" declared the theologian from Texas, and the retired English speaker said, "Guille, you are impressing me!" Wow.

I´ve made it. The break-through I´ve been longing for, waiting for, and praying for!

OK, I must finish working on this computer and get to class.

But to quote the scriptures... "Rejoice with me! What was lost is found!"

With much love,
and with a WHOLE LOT OF JOY!

-- Bill

Nuestro viaje al Mercado Vega

Carneceria. The sell EVERY part of the cow.

EVERY PART of the cow! Or of the bird, or of the...

Legumes and grains.

So far, I´ve not met a South American

who cooks (or eats!) beans.

Pickles and sauces. Behind the glass,

a partially-cooked, barley-type grain.

Some of these carrot or beet stacks were 4 and 5 feet tall!

At one point, talking with Daniel about some unusually small eggs,

I speculated that they were from avionitos.

Daniel laughed out loud.

"No," he said." Even small airplanes don´t lay eggs.

"At least, not in South America!"

(An avion is an airplane, avionito, a small one. Aves are birds!)

This photo hardly does the squash justice.

It was an even brighter yellow up-close and in person.

Contemplating our next purchase.

Not for sale!

A resident of El Mercado Vega,

this gatita gris lives very near the fish market.

This is some of the fruit we bought

(contents of the white bags included).

And that´s just the fruit!

Today, I accompanied Daniel and Elena on their weekly shopping excursion to El Mercado Vega. Similar to other open-aired markets I´ve seen the States and in Mexico, El Vega was MANY times larger and more broad in scope than any I have ever seen. It is open daily and, if one is both patient and clever, you can probably find just about anything.

We took a good many excursions into the market and back to the van, rather like a safari that moved increasingly further into the wilderness with each sucessive trip. And upon our return to the van (a mini-van sized school bus, one of two the Gonzoles own and drive during the school year), we quickly unloaded our booty.

Of great interest to me was the organization of the trip. This is a weekly occurrance, and they are accustomed to purchasing food sufficient to feed 10 people per meal, two or three times a day for a while week. That´s a LOT of food! Plus, the van has no refrigeration, it was a hot, SUNNY day, and it was a fair distance from the parking space (for which we paid, because it is secure) and the inner-sanctum of the market. In short, you want to purchase firmer things early in each trip, putting the more fragile things atop the previous purchases. And not only the bag in the cart, which Elaina or I pulled, but there were also several bags which Daniel carried. In short, these two are market machines, knowing exactly what to do, when, where, and how. It was amazing. And FUN! I hope I get to go shopping with them again before I leave!

One last thing -- in El Vega, I rather stuck out as a tourist. Several times on our sorties into the depths of the market we would hear a young boy cry out, "Gringo! Gringo!" with a huge grin on his face. I usually returned a smile and a thumbs-up gesture, saying "Sí! Gringo! Sí!"

¿Y Porque no?

-- Bill