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 ruinsof 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.
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
6 comments:
and indeed lemonade is a very good thing. J
Secret name of God? That's a new one to me. Sounds kind of Gnostic if you ask me.
Glad you're almost back to the land of the living again!
Sounds like quite a journey! You culd be enjoying our snow storm?! Make it great - we'll miss you at Rockcraft! Karen
Oh my friend! When I lived in the Dominican Republic we called direara "the blues" as in, "Man, am I singing the blues today!"
It sounds like you've been singing the blues for several days--and not just the sickness.
After I returned to the States about a month later I realized that I hadn't felt sick for a while. I was amazed at how I'd adapted to feeling icky.
I'm holding you in the light (as the Quakers say) my friend! You are astonishingly gracious to your profesora--I hope she can see that you are gift to her.
muchismo hugs, my friend--june
What a great post. Thank you for deftly sharing the drama of your adventures.
It sounds to me that another milestone has been reached. It seems to that when one moves beyond being a happy-go-lucky tourist noticing subway lines and quirky vendors and onto the host culture's values and beliefs, one is truly experiencing that culture.
Bill very simply.. know that you are loved. Trust me-- sometimes it is hard to live as though where you go God goes with you. When all else fails do not forget to wrap yourself in the cloak of HIS protection and you will do well. One day at a time and you will be back where you will know that you are where God wants you. Sometimes it is good to get truly slapped so that you can say "Nope--I do not think that is where God wants me!! So good to learn. And so vivid!! Love you and hang in there. Marty
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