Gringo Down South

Changes Underway

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Mon, 26 Nov 2007 17:29:00 +0000

I've decided to start blogging on a much more regular basis. The problem is I decided this right when I have no time. A few weeks ago I traveled to Manta. Then I toured Quito. Next was Montanita. All free time has been used to desperately catch up on my homework. So now I've decided that I really will blog on a more continual basis. The big news is that I may change sites from Blogger to a big more dynamic one that I am designing myself. Or perhaps I'll just have Blogger for posts and then feed these posts directly into my new site which will have all of my multimedia content on it. I've never designed a website before so we'll see how this goes...I'll keep you all informed.

I Ate Brains for Dinner

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Wed, 24 Oct 2007 04:18:00 +0000

Lately I have not had the energy, time, or motivation to keep my blog as up to date as I'd like it to be. There has been a going on with Expomodels and I've been struggling to bring my grades to a 90+ average as per my Grandfather's orders. Demands may be a better word here, as if I do not maintain high grades the Grandfather pulls his support quicker than a Democratic in office would pull out of Iraq.

In other news- Rafeal Correa, esteemed President of Ecuador and Defender of the People, has decided that the country will abandon the Dollar and go back to the Sucre within a month. Words fail to express how stupid this move is.

In other more random news- I ate brains for dinner. No, really. Just five minutes ago I ate brain omelet. It wasn't bad, but neither was it good. My firm belief that God intended Man to eat the muscles of animals and nothing else still stands. The whole time I was chewing the brains, this song kept playing in my head and I can't seem to get rid of it, so I will share it will all of you. I'm hoping that this works like The Ring does and after I make you all listen to it I will be free of its terrible grasp.

Falling on Dogs

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Tue, 09 Oct 2007 20:01:00 +0000

I have a new friend. She is probably the most innocent person in all of Ecuador and a so sweet you'll get a toothache just talking to her. Text messages from her are always in English and always funny, here's a more recent one, word-for-word, errors and all. She does speak surprisingly good English but...there is definitely room for improvement.

Today is such a horrible day, the bus i had to take didn't stop, an old man yelled me, and i fell on a dog in front of a lot of people! I'm not going to encourage u a lot to this...but have a nice day jaja there's always someone who's worse than u jaja

When I first received this message, I could not stop laughing. How does one fall on a dog? I messaged her back to find out. She replied with this-

I didn't see it! I fell over with someone's leg and that poor animal was in front of me and PLAS!!! No one helped me, everybody was making fun of me =<

In South America words to describe crashing, hitting, or dropping something are different from those used in the United States. I would call them comical. PLAS!!! definitely fits that description as do some others. My favorite, though, is "DOOKETY!". A man may be describing how a car ran over his friend by using this word yet I will still laugh like crazy. I mean, how does any boom, bang, crack, or clank make a sound like "DOOKETY"? Really, I want to know.

On a more serious note, it seems my friend was holding a human leg when she fell. Guess she's not the sweet little bundle of innocence I thought she was.

Tengo Un Gato En Mis Pantelones

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Tue, 25 Sep 2007 20:01:00 +0000

I found this funny video and thought I'd share it, as I don't have much time these days to write anything of substance. Exams are over Thursday...if I can just hold on till then... The best part of this video? The guy has a really bad farmer's tan. It makes me laugh. I actually have a friend who, just like the guy in this video, can spit out random phrases in Spanish. He is limited to such words as "gato" and "pantelones" but his combination of these words is truly endless. If he ever finds himself in a Mexican hospital with a rabid cat attacking him from inside his pants, he will be able to explain the situation masterfully.

Daddy's Girl

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Wed, 19 Sep 2007 03:25:00 +0000

Today I was on a bus, on the way to meet up with the guys from the modeling agency when I happened to notice a middle-aged overweight woman wearing a tight pink shirt. Now, this is not something out of the ordinary (unfortunately). What turned this slightly amusing scene into a truly hilarious one is when I noticed what the shirt said in plain English- "Daddy's Girl".

Gay as a Handbag Full of Rainbows

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Sun, 16 Sep 2007 16:37:00 +0000

Sorry I've been gone so long. A lot has happened since the last time I've written, the most important of which has been my creation of ExpoModels (http://www.expo-models.com/) with my good friend Mickey Lara. It is a modeling agency focused on young men and women who we find work for in advertising, in a nutshell. This also explains why I have not updated recently- between the company and my four intensive classes I don't have time for anything these days. In case you care I've signed up for International Trade, English Composition II, Intro. to Marketing, and Financial Accounting. I was taking Japanese but decided that to continue with it would be suicide. The teacher did not speak English, did not speak Spanish, and couldn't explain anything clearly as a result. The amount of time I would have to invest just to pass that class would have been staggering. I feel sorta bad I had to drop it, though. Japanese has always been a language I've wanted to learn. Watching as many animation and martial arts movies as I do one would think I'd already speak the language fluently. Perhaps I'll take it once I move back to the States.

Now, about ExpoModels, don't worry- I have not invested anything other than time in this enterprise. My position is Vice President and my job is to keep the finances of the company straight and be the Gringo voice of reason. Sometimes my socios (partners) get these crazy, outlandish ideas and I have to smack them back down to earth. The company is a seemingly random collection of people. There's Mickey and I the Mormons, Aldo the flamboyant gay in charge of public relations, Emily in make-up and costumes, Danny the web master, and another Danny who is supposed to be in charge of sponsors but from what I've seen does jack.

The company started with nothing at all, and I really mean nothing. We had no clue what we were doing. We still don't. This is the main reason I have never invested my personal funds in the company. There are a few simple reasons as to why I'm still in the company. I will list them in order of importance and with absolute honesty.

1. Women. It's a freakin modeling agency, there are women everywhere. Getting paid to find and assist beautiful women is an excellent reason to be involved, I think. There are guys in our agency too but I'll let Aldo deal with them. I'm not exaggerating when I say the man is as gay as a handbag full of rainbows.

2. Friendship. My friend Mickey needs me desperately and I'm more than happy to be there for him. This was the reason I even started.

3. Money. To be honest, I do not expect much of this. McDonald's employees here in Ecuador get paid $1.25 an hour, a paltry sum, and indicative of the opportunities to get rich in this country.

4. Last but not least Experience. It is an interesting experience to start up a company in a foreign land and might teach me some tricks that I may employ in my future international company.

Quinceañera

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Wed, 29 Aug 2007 02:47:00 +0000

I went to a quinceañera last Friday, and I'd like to share my experience here to educate those who may not have had the chance to go to one. For those of you who do not know, this is a party held to honor a young girl's entry into society as a woman. Corny and boring at times to be true, but also a fun experience.

This particular quinceañera was in a nearby town called Milagro (miracle). The bus ride there would have been much more comfortable had I not been wearing a suit and tie. Thankfully, it wasn't too hot out so I didn't sweat all over my newly dry-cleaned suit, which is a good start to the evening. I arrived only slightly wrinkled at the party right on time, found my friend, and sat down to enjoy the first quinceañera I had ever been to. The location was a beautiful grand hall overflowing with balloons and decorations, a small waterfall with brown stones was on one side of the room and a bar in a corner.

It started much like a wedding, with all the young girl's friends walking into the room as couples. The Quinceañera herself entered last with her boyfriend and all the room stood. Some announcements were made, some words were shared, then some more, then some more. Same as a wedding, lots of "blah blah ever since I have known this girl blah blah a wonderful person blah blah I like cake ect." You know the routine. It was interesting to hear how they were welcoming her into society, though. I find the idea to be amuzing, like if they don't officially welcome her she's not in. It seems they fear she'll try to go out into this indeterminate society and somehow be shunned. Ah well, it's a cute gesture I guess.

Next, all the young kids took the dance floor, and did an exibition dance. It was a waltz. This was slightly surreal, I mean who does the waltz anymore, especialy kids? And a Spanish waltz no less. I am almost certain this was against their will, as it would certainly be against mine. Choosing between dancing the waltz and having to eat an entire cuy by myself, I'd go for the cuy and consider myself lucky. I wish I could prove that they did indeed waltz but at this point the new batteries on my camera died. Having bought them not ten minutes earlier, I was dismayed. The brand of the batteries was Bic. To my knowledge, Bic makes pens, not batteries. I should have known.

A Ricky Martin number came next, the kids were obviously more at ease dancing that one and my ears hurt only slightly less. Some last announcements were made and the floor was opened up to all to dance. Which was great, except we hadn't eaten yet. I was hungry enough to eat the aforementioned cuy. Dinner was not served until one in the morning, after which the party continued until 3, which is just plain nuts in my book. Also just as nuts was the garter tradition. Every single one of the young men had to put a garter on his partner, as high as she would let him. Some of these kids were 13 years old. I mentioned to my friend that my future daugter(s) will not be having a quinceañera until she is twenty. At that time she will wear shorts under her dress, and dinner will be served in the P.M. rather than the absurd hours of the A.M. The veinteañera will soon be the next big thing in America- you saw it here first!

The Quinceañera herself.....awww....

"I like cake."

Me and my friend, she's the sweetest girl you'll ever meet.

A Night in Ecuador

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Fri, 24 Aug 2007 01:32:00 +0000

A night out with friends is very different here in Ecuador. In the United States one might call up some friends, agree to meet at the local Taco Bell for some quality fake Mexican food*, and perhaps go see a movie afterwards. You know what makes this blithe attitude possible? Cars. Very few of my friends actually own one. You know what else makes it possible? Time. Or rather, the fact that time is regarded as a valuable commodity in the United States and not something to be wasted. If you and all your friends agree to meet at the Chuck E. Cheese's at 8'oclock, everybody is there by 8:30. Here it is quite literally expected that you arrive hours late. "Come to my house at 2" translated into Spanish, and then back into English comes out as "feel free to pass by my house when you feel so inclined, but not before 3". I do not exaggerate.

Thus, I left my house around the time my friend told me she would be starting the movie that we would be watching, knowing full well that nobody else was at her house yet. Taking the bus to the terminal hub, I grabbed a taxi. Now, let me explain that I only have five months here in the city and as there are so many barrios it is impossible for a wayward Gringo such as myself to know them all. I often rely on the taxi drivers to get me to where I need to go. So when the taxi driver told me that yes, he did know how to get to Sauces 9, Manzana 563 I believed him. He lied. We made it as far as 565 before he gave up and told me it had to be around there and then dumped my on the corner.

I spent the next hour wandering around the hills of Sauces 9, which is one of the most dangerous of the Sauces and also one of the more dangerous barrios in the city. I forgot my cardinal rule of finding an address in South America. Ask three people how to get there, then follow what the majority says. Actually, my cardinal rule is to use Mapquest but that doesn't really work down here. I miss my Mapquest. At one point I was talking to a butcher surrounded by rotting meat and he pulls out this old, bloody map of the area. I followed his directions and got lost even deeper inside Sauces 9. Manzana (court) 563 was nowhere to be found, and if the high number is any indication there are a heck of a lot of manzanas around here, all made up of squat concrete buildings that appear to be the same. In neighborhoods like this signs are rarely used. After the fifth local pointed me in a completely opposite direction I gave up and stumbled onto a main street, then called my friend to come get me.

Funny thing is, even though I was an hour late, I was still the first person to arrive. The next three hours waiting for people to show up were spent desperately to understand Ecuador's unique flavor of ghetto Spanish. It was a special kind of hell for me. I'm not anti-social but I've never considered talking for hours to complete strangers a good time.

Unfortunately, the relaxed atmosphere of South America and the propensity for people to show up late lends itself to this sort of activity. People can spend all day, sitting around, chatting about nothing while I slowly lose my mind. In fact, the previous weekend was spent with this same friend's parents with whom I chatted for six straight hours. A better description would be they talked at me and allowed me to listen, but not speak. Turns out Cuba has a thriving economy and Fidel is a pretty OK guy.

So, the moral of the story is buy a car and have loads of free time. Even though I only have one of those two I still enjoyed the night overall. The movie was entertaining and the people good folks. Ironically, the television we used to watch the movie was damaged so the bottom of the screen fuzzed out...meaning nobody could read the subtitles. I was the only one who understood the movie.

*Taco Bell has some of the best food this planet has to offer, don't deny it. My sources tell me that there is a T.B. around here and I am diligently looking for it. The bang for your buck of that place is unmatched- just two fully loaded burritos and you've already exceeded your calorie needs for the entire day! Talk about nutritional value!
And the taste leaves nothing to be desired. A pile of smashed pinto beans, ground beef, and thick cheese, all drowning in fire sauce and tightly wrapped in a flour tortilla? Yes, please! If that description did not make you feel hungry, there is something wrong with you.

Cultural Differences: Part II

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Wed, 15 Aug 2007 15:02:00 +0000

Another incident where the Gringo-Ecuadorian cultural rift was exposed happened while I was on a tour of Guayaquil with a bunch of Gringos and a tour guide from the university. It's ironic, that after four months in the country and countless trips to Guayaquil I finally get invited to a "welcome to Ecuador tour". I never even had the tiniest amount of orientation and these new Gringos were getting a freakin guided tour, I just happened to be nearby when they were loading up the bus and got invited along. Granted, I had never really needed much in the way of orientation and these Gringos will only be here for a month but it would have been a nice gesture. My motivation for going on a tour of a city I already know was probably made up of equal parts Resentment and Boredom. Not that the trip helped with either of these.

My displeasure aside, the trip turned out to be just what I thought it would be- boring. We did, however, pass by a small barrio hospital station where one of the Gringas would be volunteering her time. Small as a trailer and half as sturdy, this structure was not the kind of place you want your family to get medical treatment in. It was run-down, disorganized, and dirty with a poorly trained staff. But, I suppose, that is better than nothing. The tour guide introduced the Gringa that would be working there to the director and added that she had been there the year before. He studied her a bit before he realized that he did in fact remember her. Seeing this, the tour guide explains "she has changed a bit over the year, she has gotten much fatter". The director nods in acceptance of the explanation but of course the entire room full of Gringos explodes into laughter as the poor girl turns beet red. Realizing his mistake yet not understanding the magnitude of it the tour guide tries to pass it off explaining to the girl "you're fatter, but it sounds much better in Spanish, really..." This did not ease the situation in the slightest. I tried not to laugh but it was so funny.

Moral of the story- calling someone fat in Ecuador, or all of South America for that matter, is not an insult. If you are the slightest bit overweight or even just thick expect to get called la gorda from time to time. Heck, even I've been called fat and I've lost weight!

Cultural Differences

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Mon, 06 Aug 2007 16:47:00 +0000

A recent incident has stood out in my mind as the moment where the gap between Ecuadorian and Gringo cultures was at its greatest. It happened at the dinner table. The family I live with and I were making light conversation while eating seco de pollo, everyone winding down after a hard day in our various jobs and studies. One of the sons of the family who happens to be just about my age decided to tell a joke. The joke goes as follows-

Three ladies were talking about husbands and how difficult it is to get them to help out around the house. One is from Peru, the other from Argentina, and the last from Ecuador. The Peruvian lady says to the others "It is so hard to get my husband to do anything. Last week I asked him to do the dishes. The first day, I didn't see anything. The second, I didn't see anything. But on the third day I woke up to find him in the kitchen, washing the dishes." All of them are very impressed. The Argentinian lady thinks of a story, and says "well, last week I asked my husband to clean the bathroom. The first day, I didn't see anything. The second either. But on the third day, I woke up to the sound of my husband scrubbing the toilet bowl." They all agree that her story is quite amazing and the Ecuadorian begins to think hard of what she can say. She begins with "I've got a story too. I once asked my husband to take out the garbage. The first day, I didn't see anything. The second day, I didn't see anything. But on the third day, I woke up to find the swelling had gone down and I could open my eyes a little!"

Ha-ha?

When I heard that joke told at the dinner table, I was in shock though everybody else around me was laughing their heads off. This family is a very conservative, well-to-do and mannered people. The only reason a joke like this would be received so well is because it is true. Ecuadorian guys are definitely into the whole macho thing. Having a wife and kids certainly doesn't prevent one from having a few peladas and perhaps even some kids with them too. Beating one or all of your partners is just par for the course. No wonder so many girls I've talked to say they prefer men from other countries.

Last Zula

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Fri, 27 Jul 2007 16:52:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Thu, 19 Jul 2007 15:42:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Tue, 10 Jul 2007 15:53:00 +0000

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

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Thu, 05 Jul 2007 16:57:00 +0000

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.

A Change in the Weather

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Fri, 29 Jun 2007 18:54:00 +0000

There have been a few changes in my life recently, the most blessed of which is the weather I currently enjoy here in Guayaquil, Ecuador. Remember all those posts about how it was so hot I was dying a slow death every day? The weather changed with the season and now it's merely warm, I hardly even sweat anymore! The current season is one of the two Ecuador has, and is called summer, we just got out of winter. I know, they got it all wrong. It's like the name of Greenland. It's like getting on a bus that says "Guayaquil" only to find out it's going to Duran. It's like raaa-ee-aaaaain, on your wedding day....

*Ahem* So, last night, late at night, I was walking home and the wind made me feel a little cool. Not cold, just a chill, ever so slight, was in the air. It was a thing of beauty. The only aspect of the sweltering heat I could possible miss is the fact that it is really good for the skin. It was like a free 24/7 facial that kept all pores clean and skin shinning. Acne? Wasn't a problem. What was the problem was sweating like a pig. That and massive discomfort I had to face every moment, of every day. And don't tell me pigs actually can't sweat, I've already heard that. If there were any pigs in this city during the "winter" months, I'm sure they are all dead by now, as no amount of wallowing in the mud could save them. That or they spontaneously mutated at a genetic level to grow pores all over their bodies.

Another big change has been my classes. I have finished the first intensive semester and am on to the next. I decided to take Intercultural Communication, Calculus II, and a high-lev Spanish course to improve my hablaring de espanol. However, Intercultural Communications scared me. I was the only Gringo in the class, as usual, but given the topic I would be required to be a steady participant in the class. I don't like class participation. The teacher called on me numerous times to get the Gringo point of view and the students watched me with awe, no doubt thinking "the class is called Intercultural Communication, and on the first day we're already doing it!" Had I told them that I was also a Mormon, it would have been like setting off a small bomb.

It brought back bad memories of my Socioeconomics in Ecuador class where the teacher assumed I already knew about Ecuador's history and everything that went on in the United States. He would ask me crazy things like the per-capita income of Chicago in 2002. Seriously, I don't know how this logic worked out in his mind, just become I come from the States does not make me a specialist on the subject. Not wanting a repeat of this treatment that would surely be much more severe, I dropped my Intercultural Communications course. Now I just have three classes in one big solid block of five hours at night, I get out at 10:30PM. We'll see how this works out...

A Break From Zula

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Mon, 25 Jun 2007 16:53:00 +0000

I think we've all had enough of Zula for now, I'll let the posts with dead animals and Indians continue after this brief respite. My final exams are over but I do not have the grades of my classes yet. I am scared. All were fairly easy- except my freakin' Socioeconomics in Ecuador class. First of all, I do not understand Ecuadorian names and much less crazy-long ancient Indian names, of which I had to learn many in that class. It goes both ways though. When I tell people here my name is Anthony, they get confused. What the heck is Anthony? Is he trying to use some English word? Perhaps he did not understand my question of "como te llamas?". I can repeat it a few times but it will not matter. If I say "An-to-ny" then they will get it, as that name is more common here. If they still do not understand, I just tell them to call me Antonio. It is real fun when they ask for my last name, as it begins with an S, hah! Most have to put an E in front of it to pronounce it.

So when the teacher in my Socioeconomics class was throwing around these Indian names like Ataualpa and Casicazgos and such, it slowed me down. I had to ask him to write the names down on the board. Also, he would forget that I'm a Gringo and everything he was talking about was new to me. He would breeze by descriptions of Indian tribes and modern politics in Ecuador saying "...but you already know all this." No, I don't already know this. I've never even heard about this. You see, Mr. Teacher, I come from another country called the United States and in this country, nobody knows Ecuador exists! I know, crazy huh? They don't teach us anything about your politics, Indians, or how every politician in the history of your country has stolen money and then taken a big crap on your flag on their way out.

That bit about the politicians didn't come from me, it came from him. He seemed slightly depressed as he talked about how each and every president has stolen money and enacted laws that have damaged the country. Heck- even the ancient Indians found new and creative ways to lose to the Spaniards, when they outnumbered them 10,000 to 1. At my present state of intellect and with the studies I have done thus far, I am 100% sure I could be a better president for Ecuador than any they have ever had. Their first president was from Peru, and another was even born in New York, why not me? My religion and my own morals prevent me from stealing money and crapping on flags. Ecuador would be an island of stability and prosperity in a sea of Latin turbulence.

Zula Fun: Part II

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Sun, 17 Jun 2007 16:35:00 +0000

Final exams are this week. For the first time in my life, I am actually studying and doing homework. It is a new experience for me, and one that eats up my time. To relax between study sessions I play Command and Conquer III. The only problem with this is that is I end up not playing between study sessions, but instead of study sessions. I am something of an computer-game addict and currently stuck on step two of my program: I believe that a Power greater than myself can restore me to sanity, I just don't want him to. Still, I must have faith, if I made it out of World of Warcraft alive where so many others have fallen, CC3 should be easy, right?

WARNING: A FEW OF THE PICTURES FURTHER ON ILLUSTRATE HOW ZULIANS MAKE A TYPICAL DISH OF GUINEA PIG. THE EXTREMELY LACTOSE INTOLERANT MAY ALSO WANT TO NOTE THAT ANOTHER PICTURE SHOWS THE PRODUCTION OF CHEESE. YOU MAY SKIP READING THIS POST IF YOU WISH.
Here are just a few pictures I took of a random waterfall in Zula. I was feeling very sick at the time due to the food/altitude/cold but saw this waterfall off in the distance and decided to go take some pictures. The locals watched carefully, no doubt thinking I was drunk due to my staggering walk up the hill.

A typical house made of straw in the region. It's possible that one of the seven or so hot-air balloons we sent up landed on one of these and set it ablaze. I sure hope not.

The picture that follows is a "before" picture. The adorable little animal I am holding is called a "cuy", in English I believe that it would be called a guinea pig. Why is this a "before" picture? Because in a few short hours this cute and fluffy animal will become the main course for dinner. That's right- Ecuadorians eat pets. At least they stop short of eating dogs and cats.

Aaaannnnndd- the "after" picture. Not so cute and adorable without their fur, are they?

One more shot from a different angle for good measure.

Moving on to a subject a bit more tame, this is how they make cheese in Zula. It's actually really tasty and has never made me sick unlike the meat. Of course, they leave the meat out day and night relying on the cold to keep it from spoiling. I don't believe that works. Not that I could tell by taste if the food was spoiled or not, but when I visited the kitchen at night I saw a slug the size of my cell phone munching on some buckets of un-prepared food. Yum!

A random old lady hacking away at a sheep head with a knife. I don't know why she was doing this. The rest of the sheep lay in a bloody heap inside a garbage bag with the legs sticking out.

Another picture of a locals house. As you can see by this picture and the one from above, the style of dress here is bright colors, cowboy hats, and ponchos.

I wanted to take more picture of the people but kinda felt bad. I mean, asking their permission would go something like this- "Hi there, I'm a Gringo and I'd like to take your picture because us fat touristy Gringos find your living conditions hilarious. Later, I'll peruse these pictures while sipping fine wine, warmed by a fire of extra hundred-dollar bills I have lying around." Actually, they all speak Quechua so they probably wouldn't understand me anyways. I did try to take pictures of some adorable little kids in their ponchos and hats, but they were so shy they ran away. The people in the Sierra live simple lives and work hard until the day they die, they're a people of the earth, a good people.

Zula Fun

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Sun, 10 Jun 2007 02:15:00 +0000

Sorry it has taken me so long to get around to this, but I've found some time and decided to post the rest of the pictures and movies I have from Zula. However, I'm not sure if I can fit it all into one post, I love to take pictures and video of everything, if that makes me look like gringo tourist, so be it. I am a gringo after all and the two months I've spent here are not enough to bump me from the tourist category. The irony is that Zula is definitely not a tourists destination. Nobody knows it exists, even Ecuadorians looked at me strangely when I told them where I was going, no doubt thinking it was some foreign town in the States.

The first pictures of many, these are of La Nariz del Diablo, the Devils Nose. It is called such because of the perilous journey a train has make to descend to the bottom. The train has to go down the face of the mountain slowly, going forwards and backwards in a see-saw motion to reach the river below. I was surprised by the large flocks of Gringos around, we almost outnumbered the Ecuadorians! This place is a huge tourist attraction and I highly recommend the tour.

The scenery on the way to Zula was fantastic. Photos that I took to prove this fact do not exist due to the condition of the roads and the need to have a stable shot to take pictures. I had been told these roads would be the steriotypical mountain roads that every traveler of the tame Appalachian Mountains to the Himalayas describes with similar terms of horror, praising the God who saw fit to grant him safe passage. Narrow, "just a few feet from the cliff's edge", and winding curves are used by all to describe their expeditions. This is what I expected and it is what I got...but a bit more extreme than I had imagined.

The roads were narrow, but that wasn't the problem so much as the huge potholes that made the trip a constant slalom. "Just a few feet from the cliff's edge" did not apply as there was no grassy strip or median between the road and empty space. There was the road, and then there was no road, and if you swerved to avoid a potentially axel-bending pothole while close to the edge you were in trouble. My friend who drove has nerves of titanium and got us there safely, the only moment of true panic I felt is when I fell asleep and awoke to the violent convulsions of the car. To the front I saw a solid wall of fog and to the left a foot of road, everything else was white.

We actually got lost for hours once we got to the more gentle plains of the sierra. We passed family after family of men and women leading slowly-plodding donkeys while the children drove a small flock of sheep or rode the donkey itself. The road here got so bad that the vibrations actually made parts of my friend's car fall off. No joke. After we hit some holes in the road that threatened to break the car in two the family realized that we were on the wrong path to Zula.

The countryside of Zula and the surrounding areas.

Gringo's Myspace Page

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Thu, 07 Jun 2007 04:42:00 +0000

Every other blog has an "official' Myspace page so I thought I would follow suit. I have a acquired a few friends by desperately clicking "add to friends" on random peoples profiles, but I need more! If you are a real-life friend of mine or just like my blog (in which case you are a friend of mine anyways), add me. Send me a funny comment or video. Especially those videos of idiots hurting themselves, those are always hilarious.

In unrelated news I just turned 26. That means I am now nine years older than some of the young whippersnappers in my classes. I am so behind in my schooling it's sad. Of course, I was a Minister of God for two entire years in Venezuela; preachin', healin' an' baptizin', yes sir! Those were the days. The days when I did not take any classes. I also spent a few more years in a boring bank job, I don't know why. No classes taken then either. Thankfully, the university I now attend offers intensive courses that last just two months. This means three classes is the maximum you are allowed to take, I am taking four and should be finished with my entire program in under two years. Perhaps then I will go back to the States to get my masters, who knows?

Zula is Cold: Part II

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Tue, 05 Jun 2007 01:01:00 +0000

I read my last post again and came to a sad conclusion; I am a wimp. It wasn't always like this, there was a time where I braved the Chicagoan elements of wind and cold as well as any native, even though I was actually born in Utah. Better, even. I only wore short sleeves and never owned a sweater. Perhaps this was due more to my fashion sense, which really is whatever is easy and cheap to wear, but the fact still stands that in sub-zero weather I would wear T-shirts.

What seems to have happened is my body attempted to make the adjustment from Chicago weather to the warmer climate of Hell. It was a valiant effort, and a failed one. If I really had acclimatized to the heat I would no longer constantly look like I just got out of a steamy shower. My hypothesis is that my bodies's thermostat is broken, it is stuck somewhere between Ecuadorian Heat and Chicago Cold. This is really the worst of both worlds. I am a wanderer with no land to call his own, a Don Quixote who boils in his own armor by day and shivers uncontrollably by night.

My sad state aside, here is a mini hot air balloon we let fly in Zula. It was launched to commemorate a sweet old ladies's 90th birthday, and appease some saint, I can't remember the name. You can hear me coughing my lungs out in the background due to the smoke. The smoke must have messed with my brain as well because I can't even pronounce the word Humo correctly. I'm such a freaking gringo sometimes.

The Sierra is Cold

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Tue, 29 May 2007 01:18:00 +0000

Yes, it is true. There exists in Ecuador not only the scalding heat of the coast where I currently dwell, but a freezing climate high in the wind-swept mountains of the sierra. Such a wide variety of pain, in a country the size of Colorado! An earlier version of myself would have jumped at the chance to get out of the heat. Indeed, I did laugh when my host family told me Zula would be cold, even for a gringo. Cold? Hah! I come from Chicago, we own cold. As its masters, we let it roam free for half the year and sometimes more. And my host family wanted me to take a coat. A coat! Who the heck brings a coat to Ecuador?

As it turns out, I made a grave miscalculation. The extreme altitude, searing wind, and arctic temperature combined to form a type of Axis of Evil whose united purpose was to make me feel like crap. They succeeded, in part. I spent my nights unable to sleep due to the change in pressure. My mornings were spent wishing my stomach pains would leave so I could actually eat something. The evenings were spent looking for additional clothes to put on. By stealing clothes from random people I was able to cobble together an outfit that made me look like a sad Christmas tree---a green hat, red scarf, and over sized jacket that wasn't nearly thick enough.

The cold found the prospect of tormenting an unprepared gringo much more appealing than its failed attempts to pierce the stone skin of the local natives. That is why it followed me. I know this is not usually possible but this chill wind born in the harsh mountains of the sierra seemed to have developed an evil intelligence. It jumped on my head and made me wish I was born without ears. It tried to gnaw off my face by freezing portions so they were digestible. It followed me into the bathroom when I was most vulnerable. Showers were impossible. I'm surprised the water could be at that temperature and still hold its liquid form! Sometimes I would feel the wind whipping at my eyes and making them water, only to realize they were tears. Perhaps I was mourning the slow death of my fingers? Using my keen survival skills I was able to steal mittens. This served the dual purpose of completing the outfit of the Dorkiest Gringo in Ecuador and saving my fingers, for which you should be grateful as I'm using them to write this blog for you.

Comments Back Up

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Wed, 23 May 2007 05:09:00 +0000

Finally, I have been able to make comments available after all my posts. It is a known issue with Blogger and they say they are working on it (I say they are lying). My way around it is fairly easy though- I just re-post and re-post until everything is as it should be.

I Can't Take Heat, Getting Out Of Kitchen

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Wed, 16 May 2007 03:24:00 +0000

My roommate Paolo and his enamorada Joana took me to a club in the rich north side of Guayaquil a while ago. It was really a lot of fun. I'm not a dancer by any means but I do like to go out clubbing. Sadly, I'm pretty sure others find my dancing a painful experience. The club we went to is called Diesel. If you ever find yourself in Ecuador and need a good club to hit up, try it. Music is good, the bar is free (after you pay to get in of course), and the various rooms with either dance floors or couches is a nice touch. The main floor was packed full and bodies were everywhere with little space to move or actually dance. Now, this normally would not deter me but this night it didn't even cross my mind- beautiful Latinas with long, black hair and were everywhere!

I made a miscalculation. Believing that my exotic gringo appeal would conquer all, I began to dance like an ADHD child locked out of the bathroom. The club's sweltering atmosphere and my own unfortunate propensity to perspire combined to extract every drop of moisture in my body and convert it into sweat. I often soak through my shirt here in Ecuador but this time I somehow managed to sweat through my pants and socks as well. It was not pretty. Girls started refusing to dance with me and would even advert their eyes in horror. They must have thought that dancing with me could only end in their testifying to American embassy officials in the inquiry over my death. I really can't blame them. While my luck with the girls was nowhere to be found at that club, the next club I would go to was something completely different...

Happy Mother's Day

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Sun, 13 May 2007 17:04:00 +0000

Everybody keeps asking me if I feel sad to be in South America during Mother's Day, with a look of pity or concern on their faces like I'm going to break down and cry at any moment. I can survive without my mother or family. This isn't to say that I'm a cruel and heartless person, I do miss her of course. The two years I spent in Venezuela as a missionary prepared me for this. It is official Church policy that missionaries are to never see their families for the duration of the mission and are to call on only two occasions- Mother's Day and Christmas. This may seem harsh but it is actually designed to keep one's mind focused on the task at hand and not call crying home to mommy every few days. I will call my mother today, and now that I'm not a missionary I won't have a time limit. She has been a wonderful mother, raising six children (all boys) through some very tough times. I only wish I could do more for her besides a phone call.

As I hate blogs with a large amount of emo content let's move on. My computer situation has been partially resolved, at least the most important part. Due to the miracle that is reinstalling the operating system my laptop is back up and running and faster than before. My HP laptop, I love her so much. Yes, she is a girl. She told me so. What?...

Anyways, while that situation is resolved my wireless situation has gone from bad to worse. The wireless router is now completely useless. Not only can I not connect to the wireless from .5 feet away, it is no longer possible to connect a computer directly to it and use the modem. It's a worthless piece of crap now. I will try and return it tomorrow, but knowing Ecuador, this will be no easy task.

Pray For Me

noreply@blogger.com (GringoDownSouth) — Thu, 10 May 2007 03:32:00 +0000

Computers are not my friend at the moment, I am not even sure I can publish this entry but I am typing it anyways, it has been too long since the last time I posted. My first troubles with computers and their newfangled devices started with the wireless router I just bought for 100 dollars. Electronics are expensive in Ecuador because they do not make any, it is all imported. This router is supposed to have an indoor signal strength that reaches up to 100 meters. All I need is 20 because I would like to use my laptop in my room where it is nice and quiet. It did not seem like too much to ask for but the router thinks I am a selfish jerk. We are currently locked in an epic battle that has lasted for days. The farthest I can get a good signal with this 100 dollar box of plastic frustration is about ten feet. Seriously. Make that five feet if a wall is in the way.

If this were all, I would consider myself fortunate and electronics my good friends. However, something very, very bad has happened to my laptop. This is unfortunate because my laptop is my life. Countless hours have been spent downloading movies, anime, and other random files to this beautiful machine. I cannot survive the harsh conditions here in Ecuador without it!

While I consider myself a fairly computer-savy person this is beyond my experience. I have spent hours trying to fix it and I seem to be making the problem actually worse. This started out as a corrupt profile message and the / in my c drive files (i.e. C:/Program Files/Crap) being replaced with some weird antena symbol that I have never seen before. Now I am unable to log onto my computer at all. This is due to the very applications that are supposed to help fix my computer, made by my new enemy Microsoft. Screw you, System Restore.