Last Zula

Warning: More gruesome pictures of food preparation in Zula are in this post. Really gruesome. If you are a farmer this post will not affect you at all and you may find it boring. But I'm from the suburbs, dangit, and this is all new to me.

So, I've dredged the bottom of my photo collection from Zula and found a whole slew of pictures I had not posted yet. They all involve the preparation of the pig, the main feast. That pig was tasty. Too bad I was sick and couldn't really enjoy it.

It's Babe! Or Wilbur! Either way it's a tasty meal. He is smiling in this picture, blissfully unaware of his fate. It makes me feel a little pang of guilt that I'll be eating fried Pumba in a couple of hours.



Poor pig, he died for a good cause. This is the first time I've ever really seen how they clean an animal. The thing that impressed me the most is that pigs are ALL stomach, I swear half their body weight is intestines.

Ambassador of Gringolandia

I apologize for the lack of updates recently. It's been a crazy week with my midterm exams taking turns punching me in the face. The crazy thing is- I just started classes on July 2 and we're already taking midterms here. If this ridiculous speed keeps up, I'm going to either finish my degree in half a year or move to Zula where I can relax and meditate on mountain-tops.

I do have an amusing story for you, however. Recently I was standing in a hallway of my university, just chatting to a friend when a lady came up and asked to take my picture. She identified herself as a member of the faculty so I consented, though it was a bit odd. I soon forgot about it. Weeks later, the university had a mandatory gathering for all the students in the auditorium. It turned out to be something boring and useless, as those meetings always are. The faculty decided to show us the new video that had been produced for the university, promoting the international aspects and programs we have. I watched half-asleep as the subject of the video turned to international students saying "We here at the U** have a thriving international program with students from all over the world attending this institution". That's when my picture popped up. Great. As one, the entire auditorium turned to look at me.

Later, while talking to some friends about it they decided that I was a type of school mascot, the only Gringo who would be staying there longer than a month or two and therefore had a special status. I didn't like being some kind of Gringo freak and told them so, but they reassured me saying I'm a representative of the United States, an Ambassador of Gringolandia.

Going Into Hiding

You may have noticed that I have taken down my picture. I did this for two reasons-
1) The new picture is a good representation of what people see when they look at me and what I sometimes feel like.
2) I'm in hiding.

The main reason for this being that Ecuador is a tiny country. When people first meet me their line of questioning starts with "what the heck are you doing in Ecuador?", and after I explain that my grandfather is Ecuadorian they will always ask his name. Granted, nobody has yet told me that they recognize the name but that's probably because he comes from the highlands. People here have large families and lots of friends, everybody knows everybody, and they love to sit around and gossip. So on Myspace or my blog here I do not want people I know to be able to do a search for Ecuador and have my picture pop up.

My blog had already helped me meet some people here. Perhaps a better description would be "cute Latinas". I even took a couple out. The only problem with this is that it was a complete waste of time. One of them seemed nice but on our first date arrived half an hour late with the excuse the Latin version of American Idol was on. I don't know what it is called and I do not care. If I could rid the world of the lameness in TV-show form that is American Idol I would do so gladly, and if that involved murdering Simon Cowell so be it. So you can see the effect that excuse had on me. About as convincing as Elton John in a boxing ring. It didn't help that this girl was stuck-up. I mean, you live in a third world country and have a car, that's great, but you are not rich high-society and probably never will be. Get over yourself. I hate rich snobs in the States and I hate their wanna-be counterparts here in Ecuador.

The next girl turned out to be quite intriguing. It was intriguing to me that someone of her intellectual capacities managed to make it into my same university. Every hour, on the hour, she would send me a message that said simply "hola". At first I tried to respond to all her insane requests for attention and think of interesting messages to send back, but I felt like I was dating a 13-year old girl who just got her first cell phone. It was hell. As I was thinking about deleting her from my Myspace, messenger, phone, ect. and just forgetting I ever met her, I let slip that I'm Mormon. She went from school-girl madly in love to as cold as the other side of my pillow in an instant. From that moment on, she never called or messaged me again. Which, works out quite well in my book but, seriously, wth? I've never seen that kind of reaction to my religion before. Except from the street trash that believe Mormons abduct kids and indoctrinate them.

In case either of these girls are reading I would like to make....aw heck, I don't really care if they are reading or not. Actually, I hope they are.

Zula Party

I've finally been able to get my videos of Zula to work on this site so I'll post them while I can. The town of Zula and indeed all of the region is full of native Indians who work hard and earn little. Every once in a while, though, they like to relax and throw a party. When I traveled to Zula it was the grandomothers 90-something birthday and the entire extended family was all there.

In an earlier post about the mini-blimps they sent off I mentioned that they were for the birthday and some saint, turns out I made a cultural mistake. The saint and the grandmother are actually one and the same, they say she is the saint because her birthday is her special day, just as in the Catholic church they have hundreds of saints and they all get their own day to be remembered. Being Mormon, I did not know much of this tradition so I didn't catch on at first. When it was my own birthday and people were calling me a saint I got a little weirded out by it, but once explained, it makes perfect sense.

Burning a tire for fun. What else is there to do in Zula, honestly? I didn't exactly find a dance club next to any cattle houses over there. Not even a tiny store.


Good old fashioned dancing to folksy music.


The whole time I was there they kept telling me the "vaca loca" was coming. I was like, wth? The crazy cow? Is this some kind of santa-type deity who visits the faithful and bestows milkshakes and cheese? You can see for yourselves what it is.


An old, old song, sung by the grandmother and her sister. The reason the other women are crying in the video is because the grandmother cannot remember anybody or anyone anymore, yet somehow still remembers this song and sings it beautifully. It takes them a minute to start singing.