A Change in the Weather

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...

I Can't Take Heat, Getting Out Of Kitchen

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...

Ecuador is hot.

Yes, it's true, I've arrived! The flight here took about 12 hours including all the delays. This city is much like Caracas in Venezuela, where I lived for 2 years as a missionary. The streets are a bit cleaner, but the buildings are crumbling, the sidewalks are crumbling, everything is in bad shape if you compare it to the United States. But I'm okay with that. The city is fun and crowded and as I'm typing this a group of loud protestors is marching by. All of their signs say something about Cono. I'm not sure what Cono is but it sure pissed these people off. Maybe the hot weather here just makes people angry. Heck, if Cono is another word for weather, I'd be protesting it too.

Seriously, it's freakin hot down here. I'm sweating so much, I'm afraid the torrents of liquid pouring off my body might short-circuit this computer. At least then they would have to get a new one, this one sucks.

Life here is definately a change of pace from Washington D.C. where I stayed a few days with my grandparents and my aunt Rosie. Rosie is handicapped and the sweetest person you will ever meet. Her mother (my grandmother) is an orchid freak. She even has her own greenhouse full of them. My grandfather is a good man, but tends to talk for an hour or so before he cares to listen to anything you have to say. I went on long walks with him and our conversations were basicaly his monologues. That week that I stayed in my grandfathers house was fun nonetheless.