I remember the first time I heard it. I´m sitting at the dinner table with my host family in Argentina. My host mom puts the plate down in front of me, the portion of food equal to that of my host fathers. ¨Coma mi gordita¨ she says, ever so sweetly. At that moment I suddenly lost my appetite. Tears started to gather in my eyes as I thought to my self...¨did she just call me one of the items off of the Taco Bell menu?¨
It didn´t take me long to figure out that ¨gorda¨ (fat girl) or ¨gordita¨ (little fat girl) are never meant to be offensive, but rather, sweet and caring nicknames used frequently between friends in Latin America. I still wonder what it is about the culture that allows people to speak so casually about ones appearance. And, why we in the states avoid the subject at all costs. Just imagine yourself for a minute, greeting your best friends with:
¨What´s happening skinny!¨ or ¨How´s life fatso?¨
Not only that, but in every conversation there is a reference to your weight. When I was deathly ill with GI problems on a regular basis, I would hear:
¨Wow look at you, you´re thinner. When you first got here you were huge.¨ Or, one of my favorites which came from one of my girls at the Hogar, ¨You´re stomach is smaller, but your butt is still giant. Why is your butt giant?¨
I can honestly say it usually doesn’t offend me anymore. I only say usually because one night I came home after drinking a healthy amount of tequila. Maria Dolores friend was there and said to me, ¨You know, you´re fatter now. Before you were skinnier.¨ Now let me just say, this women is by no means thin. She could stand to loose about 40 pounds. In my drunken frustration I looked at her and said…¨You should talk fatty. And you wanna know WHY I´m fatter….because I finally don´t have diarrhea every other day!¨ Thankfully, I didn´t offend her.
But really, I have gotten used to it. And it´s not just those two words. In Spanish you can add ¨ita/ito¨ to the end of the word as a diminutive. For example, ¨Hola mi niñita chiquitita lindita¨ (Hi my little tiny itty bitty pretty girl!). You can also however, add ¨ota/ote¨ to the end of the word to enhance the size. When I go to the pool with Javier, he will often say…¨Que piernotas grandotas.¨ (What gigantic legs you have). Of course that´s nothing compared to Javier´s main nickname for me...¨Mamut¨
Mamut means Mammoth.
Even now there are times I wish I had been raised as a native Spanish speaker. Then I might be able to truly understand the meaning behind these comments. I might even find them sweet and flattering. Instead, I will always hear the literal translation…¨What´s up fatty¨. And you know, for a long time I thought I wouldn’t miss the weight references one little bit when I go home. But then again, at least in this culture there is no room for you to have unrealistic ideas about the way you look. If you´re fat, people will tell you. And in my case that´s a good motivation to keep working out. Of course it´s not like that would matter. I will always be a Mamut.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Monday, August 23, 2010
No more Ms. Nice Lesley
I´ve come to love the city life, but every now and then it´s nice to get away. There is a place about an hour north west of Ibarra that has become my favorite retreat…Cahuasqui. In my opinion, Cahuasqui should pretty much be one of the natural wonders of the world, becuase it looks like this:
There are three volunteers there, although one of them, Ryan, will be leaving us at the end of the month. This weekend a bunch of us headed to Cahuasqui to join Ryan for the inauguration of a park he has been working on throughout the last year. What was once nothing but dirt and rocks is now a grass soccer field, two volleyball courts and a playground. The inauguration began with what seemed like a two hour long mass. Much like with the wedding I attended, I found myself dozing off. I perked up when the priest started talking about how there are only 144,000 spots in heaven. But he lost me again when he started explaining why the number was 144,000. I´ve never been very good at math. There was also a soccer tournament that day. For entertainment, Ryan planned for us gringos to play a team of 14 year old boys. But knowing how serious Ecuadorians are about their soccer from a very early age, I was intimidated. Although really, it seemed like a lose lose situation for us. If we win, we are the mean gringos who beat a bunch of kids. If we lose, we are the loser gringos who can´t even beat a bunch of 14 year olds. So we tried to go at it light heartedly. The game started off pretty rough for us. By half time we were down 0-2, and I had a variety of grass stains all over my body from being tackled by the little beasts. But you see, when gringos work in teams, there is always a comeback. With ten minutes left in the game we were tied 2-2. The kids were starting to look stressed…and we were unstoppable. I was playing forward…which really just meant I was cherry picking. But it all paid off. I was perfectly placed in front of the goal, Ryan had a throw in, and without moving a muscle the ball bounced off of my head and into the goal. Even with several years of soccer under my belt, I´m pretty sure that´s the only header I have ever scored. Anyway, we were victorious. And we found our victory ever so satisfying.
The rest of our day was spent relaxing…and watching the many men of Cahuasqui (who had begun drinking during mass) stumble around incoherently. One man took a nasty fall…some say they even saw his tooth fly out as he hit the ground. He was laying there on the sidewalk for a good 5 minutes, clearly unconscious. Now in the states, he would be loaded onto a gurney and taken to the hospital where he would have his head examined and his stomach pumped. But in Ecuador a few people just propped him up into the sitting position and continued on their way. Sure enough he came to minutes later, made several attempts to stand, and once he was successful he staggered off down the road…maybe to his house…or maybe to get some bbq chicken. Still, the fact that no one is appalled by the behavior of these men just shows why it can be so hard to educate people about the dangers of alcoholism. There is a cultural experience around every corner.
I have been dealing with a similar struggle at work. Last week I started swimming lessons with the girls. The Psychologist, a new Ecuadorian volunteer and I took them to a pool. We hadn´t been there for 30 seconds when two of the oldest girls started begging me for beer. Now I spend a lot of my time just talking to these girls, the older ones specifically. I try to be their friend, to help them feel better about themselves given all of their issues at home, and reminded them of all they can do with their lives if they stay on the right path. So remembering how many hours I have spent explaining why drinking at the age of 13 is not the best use of their time, I pressed my lips together and gave them my irritated look. By now they know what that means…but of course it doesn’t faze them. They came back five minutes later and tried again. An hour later in the pool I had finally mastered the art of floating with most of the girls…but I noticed a few of them had run off. Then Carmen, a 6 year old, told me they had bought beer. Now thankfully, the other volunteer had caught them and taken it away before they had a chance to drink it. But what amazed me was that someone sold it to them. It´s very obvious they are 12 and 13 years old and immature. But apparently that doesn’t matter as long as you´re making a buck. Even though I have been here for over a year, and fewer things surprise me, every once and a while I find myself shocked and defeated. There is only so much you can do to educate kids when the temptation is always there and available, and many of the adults in their life are a bad example. So after that day I decided no more Ms. Nice Lesley. I looked up some drinking facts to tell teens like, 1. Makes you gain weight - 2. Makes you have bad breath - 3. Makes your skin break out! If that doesnt scare teenage girls, maybe I´ll start bringing pictures of mangled bodies or accidents that have occured as a result of drugs and alcohol. Maybe a picture of a damaged liver. I mean scare tactics tends to work...right? I welcome suggestions.
There are three volunteers there, although one of them, Ryan, will be leaving us at the end of the month. This weekend a bunch of us headed to Cahuasqui to join Ryan for the inauguration of a park he has been working on throughout the last year. What was once nothing but dirt and rocks is now a grass soccer field, two volleyball courts and a playground. The inauguration began with what seemed like a two hour long mass. Much like with the wedding I attended, I found myself dozing off. I perked up when the priest started talking about how there are only 144,000 spots in heaven. But he lost me again when he started explaining why the number was 144,000. I´ve never been very good at math. There was also a soccer tournament that day. For entertainment, Ryan planned for us gringos to play a team of 14 year old boys. But knowing how serious Ecuadorians are about their soccer from a very early age, I was intimidated. Although really, it seemed like a lose lose situation for us. If we win, we are the mean gringos who beat a bunch of kids. If we lose, we are the loser gringos who can´t even beat a bunch of 14 year olds. So we tried to go at it light heartedly. The game started off pretty rough for us. By half time we were down 0-2, and I had a variety of grass stains all over my body from being tackled by the little beasts. But you see, when gringos work in teams, there is always a comeback. With ten minutes left in the game we were tied 2-2. The kids were starting to look stressed…and we were unstoppable. I was playing forward…which really just meant I was cherry picking. But it all paid off. I was perfectly placed in front of the goal, Ryan had a throw in, and without moving a muscle the ball bounced off of my head and into the goal. Even with several years of soccer under my belt, I´m pretty sure that´s the only header I have ever scored. Anyway, we were victorious. And we found our victory ever so satisfying.
The rest of our day was spent relaxing…and watching the many men of Cahuasqui (who had begun drinking during mass) stumble around incoherently. One man took a nasty fall…some say they even saw his tooth fly out as he hit the ground. He was laying there on the sidewalk for a good 5 minutes, clearly unconscious. Now in the states, he would be loaded onto a gurney and taken to the hospital where he would have his head examined and his stomach pumped. But in Ecuador a few people just propped him up into the sitting position and continued on their way. Sure enough he came to minutes later, made several attempts to stand, and once he was successful he staggered off down the road…maybe to his house…or maybe to get some bbq chicken. Still, the fact that no one is appalled by the behavior of these men just shows why it can be so hard to educate people about the dangers of alcoholism. There is a cultural experience around every corner.
I have been dealing with a similar struggle at work. Last week I started swimming lessons with the girls. The Psychologist, a new Ecuadorian volunteer and I took them to a pool. We hadn´t been there for 30 seconds when two of the oldest girls started begging me for beer. Now I spend a lot of my time just talking to these girls, the older ones specifically. I try to be their friend, to help them feel better about themselves given all of their issues at home, and reminded them of all they can do with their lives if they stay on the right path. So remembering how many hours I have spent explaining why drinking at the age of 13 is not the best use of their time, I pressed my lips together and gave them my irritated look. By now they know what that means…but of course it doesn’t faze them. They came back five minutes later and tried again. An hour later in the pool I had finally mastered the art of floating with most of the girls…but I noticed a few of them had run off. Then Carmen, a 6 year old, told me they had bought beer. Now thankfully, the other volunteer had caught them and taken it away before they had a chance to drink it. But what amazed me was that someone sold it to them. It´s very obvious they are 12 and 13 years old and immature. But apparently that doesn’t matter as long as you´re making a buck. Even though I have been here for over a year, and fewer things surprise me, every once and a while I find myself shocked and defeated. There is only so much you can do to educate kids when the temptation is always there and available, and many of the adults in their life are a bad example. So after that day I decided no more Ms. Nice Lesley. I looked up some drinking facts to tell teens like, 1. Makes you gain weight - 2. Makes you have bad breath - 3. Makes your skin break out! If that doesnt scare teenage girls, maybe I´ll start bringing pictures of mangled bodies or accidents that have occured as a result of drugs and alcohol. Maybe a picture of a damaged liver. I mean scare tactics tends to work...right? I welcome suggestions.
Monday, August 2, 2010
Ayy Yay Yay
I guess I´ll just start from the beginning. I´m standing in the airport, it´s almost 9:00 at night, rabbit balloon in hand reading ¨Bienvenidos!¨. The doors open and there they are…all worn out from their first class traveling…aka a lot of eating. We embrace, smile, giggle, and well…it was all down hill from there.
Haaaha. Juuuust kidding. I tickle myself.
The next morning we headed back to the airport for our flight to Guayaquil. Dad had his first experience of culture shock as we were passing through the security check. Instead of looking at what was in the bags, the lady behind the x-ray machine was getting a fierce kiss from her supervisor. Welcome to the land of machismo, where sexual harassment does not exist. The flight to Guayaquil sort of damaged me, because after getting there in 45 minutes, I will never again be able to get on that 12 hour bus ride. We arrived and headed to the bus terminal, which is more like a shopping mall and definitely larger than the airport. We managed to catch a bus to Puerto Lopez immediately, but not before I deserted my poor parents to buy some cheeseburgers. Fortunately, when the man helping us asked ¨donde?¨, all of that studying paid off when Mom understood and said, ¨McDonalds¨. The bus ride was long, but we had nice seats in the front and thankfully, the windows opened. The road out of Guayaquil isn´t exactly the prettiest landscape you´ve ever seen. It´s littered with trash and shacks made out of wood and scrap metal. Since that´s certainly not what the majority of Ecuador looks like, I thought it could only get better for them after that since it was the first time they ever really saw the country in daylight. Once we got to Puerto Lopez we loaded ourselves into a ¨moto-taxi¨ which looks like this…
That´s Brooke, a volunteer on the coast, and she is making that face because once she had a traumatizing accident in one of those bad boys. Of course, I didn´t tell my parents about that incident until later. The highlight of Puerto Lopez was probably the whale watching trip we took out to an island about an hour and a half away from the main land. The boat part of it was nauseating. It was a mixture of the strong smell of gasoline and the fact that the boat was traveling at about 80 miles per hour that made me want to hurl. My parents were just fine…Mom likes the smell of gasoline. Once on the Island we had our own private tour. While the rest of the group took a hike to see some birds, we stole some shells, hung out on the boat, drank beer, snorkeled and watched the boat men catch octopuses. On the way back Brooke and I decided to stand on the top of the boat to avoid feeling sea sick. That really meant us hanging on for dear life as we sped back to the town. The whales of course were beautiful. Puerto Lopez overall was sort of a let down, I think probably because the weather was cloudy and muggy. I was excited to get to Brookes site, Ayangue, and to stay in a really nice hotel.
But of course, it wouldn’t be Ecuador without a little drama. We arrive at the hotel, really the only suitable hotel in the town I might add, and a snotty woman at the front desk basically tells us, ¨Sorry, we´ve got a big family reunion here, there´s no room for you.¨ Now this has happened to me before, but I had never imagined it would happen at a nice hotel like this one. So naturally, I went just a little crazy. After about ten minutes I was getting no where with the evil wench. She had offered us a hostel in the town, and access to the pool and restaurant. So I let the restaurant owner take us down there. The hostel ended up being someone’s house. That´s normal here, but of course for my parents it was ridiculous. So Brooke called the President of her town to see if he could help out. Meanwhile, I continued to tell the restaurant owner that I was going to tell everyone I know NEVER to go there, and I was going to bash it all over the internet. He said the Ecuadorian equivalent of, ¨Shiiiit¨, and got back on the phone. Ten minutes later he comes back relieved because he had managed to work something out. We had our room, and it was a beautiful day for tanning. A few margaritas later we were all loving life…except for Dad, who was asleep in the room as a result of his first experience with GI discomfort. The rest of our time in Ayangue was very relaxing. Thankfully the weather was nicer, and so everyone was happier.
Our trip to the coast was fun overall, but I was excited to get back to the Sierra. We spent a few days in Quito. I think they enjoyed the change of scenery and food and seeing the historical center.
Finally we got to Ibarra, which for me was the most exciting part of the trip since that’s where my life is. We went almost immediately to see the girls, who were very excited to meet the parents. The evil Director nun was on her very best behavior, and met my parents with a polite smile. The most amusing part of the trip came in the wee hours of the next morning. There was a ever so slight knock at my door at 6 in the morning. There stands my mother, nearly weeping, looking a pale white despite her tan. She´s mumbling, walking in circles although she is very clearly awake. ¨I´m so sick…I´m so sick¨. I am an evil person I know, but it took everything in me to keep from laughing. ¨ Ok ok…calm down¨. What I really wanted to say was…¨Yea…welcome to my life.¨ Actually I think I probably did say that. Anyway she rested for several hours and then woke up feeling ok at about 9. Feeling ok of course means not having the urge to let out any bodily fluids, but still you feel like death. I´m pretty sure that both of them knew they would get sick here…I guess they just didn´t realize how dreadful it is. Once again, welcome to my life.
We spent the next week seeing everything that Imbabura has to offer. Pretty towns and lakes, the city of Ibarra, of course. And spending some time with the girls. For the most part they were troopers. They took the bus, ate Cuy, learned to say ¨Buenos Dias¨ to almost everyone. And most importantly, they helped me feel a little bit more like a bad ass for being here. For not only putting up with the little strange things that happen day to day, but finding those things to be normal. Lastly I will say, for those of you willing to leave your comfort zone…I welcome more visitors.
Oh and also...Happy Birthday to Dad...who is 65 today...but can still stag leap like a champ:
Haaaha. Juuuust kidding. I tickle myself.
The next morning we headed back to the airport for our flight to Guayaquil. Dad had his first experience of culture shock as we were passing through the security check. Instead of looking at what was in the bags, the lady behind the x-ray machine was getting a fierce kiss from her supervisor. Welcome to the land of machismo, where sexual harassment does not exist. The flight to Guayaquil sort of damaged me, because after getting there in 45 minutes, I will never again be able to get on that 12 hour bus ride. We arrived and headed to the bus terminal, which is more like a shopping mall and definitely larger than the airport. We managed to catch a bus to Puerto Lopez immediately, but not before I deserted my poor parents to buy some cheeseburgers. Fortunately, when the man helping us asked ¨donde?¨, all of that studying paid off when Mom understood and said, ¨McDonalds¨. The bus ride was long, but we had nice seats in the front and thankfully, the windows opened. The road out of Guayaquil isn´t exactly the prettiest landscape you´ve ever seen. It´s littered with trash and shacks made out of wood and scrap metal. Since that´s certainly not what the majority of Ecuador looks like, I thought it could only get better for them after that since it was the first time they ever really saw the country in daylight. Once we got to Puerto Lopez we loaded ourselves into a ¨moto-taxi¨ which looks like this…
That´s Brooke, a volunteer on the coast, and she is making that face because once she had a traumatizing accident in one of those bad boys. Of course, I didn´t tell my parents about that incident until later. The highlight of Puerto Lopez was probably the whale watching trip we took out to an island about an hour and a half away from the main land. The boat part of it was nauseating. It was a mixture of the strong smell of gasoline and the fact that the boat was traveling at about 80 miles per hour that made me want to hurl. My parents were just fine…Mom likes the smell of gasoline. Once on the Island we had our own private tour. While the rest of the group took a hike to see some birds, we stole some shells, hung out on the boat, drank beer, snorkeled and watched the boat men catch octopuses. On the way back Brooke and I decided to stand on the top of the boat to avoid feeling sea sick. That really meant us hanging on for dear life as we sped back to the town. The whales of course were beautiful. Puerto Lopez overall was sort of a let down, I think probably because the weather was cloudy and muggy. I was excited to get to Brookes site, Ayangue, and to stay in a really nice hotel.
But of course, it wouldn’t be Ecuador without a little drama. We arrive at the hotel, really the only suitable hotel in the town I might add, and a snotty woman at the front desk basically tells us, ¨Sorry, we´ve got a big family reunion here, there´s no room for you.¨ Now this has happened to me before, but I had never imagined it would happen at a nice hotel like this one. So naturally, I went just a little crazy. After about ten minutes I was getting no where with the evil wench. She had offered us a hostel in the town, and access to the pool and restaurant. So I let the restaurant owner take us down there. The hostel ended up being someone’s house. That´s normal here, but of course for my parents it was ridiculous. So Brooke called the President of her town to see if he could help out. Meanwhile, I continued to tell the restaurant owner that I was going to tell everyone I know NEVER to go there, and I was going to bash it all over the internet. He said the Ecuadorian equivalent of, ¨Shiiiit¨, and got back on the phone. Ten minutes later he comes back relieved because he had managed to work something out. We had our room, and it was a beautiful day for tanning. A few margaritas later we were all loving life…except for Dad, who was asleep in the room as a result of his first experience with GI discomfort. The rest of our time in Ayangue was very relaxing. Thankfully the weather was nicer, and so everyone was happier.
Our trip to the coast was fun overall, but I was excited to get back to the Sierra. We spent a few days in Quito. I think they enjoyed the change of scenery and food and seeing the historical center.
Finally we got to Ibarra, which for me was the most exciting part of the trip since that’s where my life is. We went almost immediately to see the girls, who were very excited to meet the parents. The evil Director nun was on her very best behavior, and met my parents with a polite smile. The most amusing part of the trip came in the wee hours of the next morning. There was a ever so slight knock at my door at 6 in the morning. There stands my mother, nearly weeping, looking a pale white despite her tan. She´s mumbling, walking in circles although she is very clearly awake. ¨I´m so sick…I´m so sick¨. I am an evil person I know, but it took everything in me to keep from laughing. ¨ Ok ok…calm down¨. What I really wanted to say was…¨Yea…welcome to my life.¨ Actually I think I probably did say that. Anyway she rested for several hours and then woke up feeling ok at about 9. Feeling ok of course means not having the urge to let out any bodily fluids, but still you feel like death. I´m pretty sure that both of them knew they would get sick here…I guess they just didn´t realize how dreadful it is. Once again, welcome to my life.
We spent the next week seeing everything that Imbabura has to offer. Pretty towns and lakes, the city of Ibarra, of course. And spending some time with the girls. For the most part they were troopers. They took the bus, ate Cuy, learned to say ¨Buenos Dias¨ to almost everyone. And most importantly, they helped me feel a little bit more like a bad ass for being here. For not only putting up with the little strange things that happen day to day, but finding those things to be normal. Lastly I will say, for those of you willing to leave your comfort zone…I welcome more visitors.
Oh and also...Happy Birthday to Dad...who is 65 today...but can still stag leap like a champ:
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