Thanks

I picked it up for myself, but I think my parents actually claimed it as a Christmas/Birthday present from them. Its a Romare Bearen wall calender, which I installed in my office today. It's just beautiful. This is January.

Yes, I am that annoying girl right now

I like Jane. I like her very much. She can cook and blow glass and kayak. She knows about wine and has a book of old transit maps in her house. We have plans for New Years Eve.

Snow and Dates

I am thinking today about happens when I meet someone and start going out with them. The flights of fancy. The imagined domestic bliss. The imagined domestic discord. And why it is so hard to just simply be in the moment without wondering about what it means for next month? For next summer? For when/if I want to have kids? For down the road? Why is it difficult to avoid projecting, spinning-out scenarios and extrapolations? The last couple weeks were a little bit of an excercise in focusing simply on the goal of getting to know someone. And seeing how it felt to be in one space or another with that person. And balancing the reserve that goes along with that with the terror of somehow waking up and finding yourself with a full-fledged relationship, without even having decided that I want it or not. Which is silly, because things really don't work that quickly usually. And that reserve is tricky because you find yourself running the risk of missing the moment. Until something says to you, this girl is freaking AWESOME and you should seal deal, (at least the dating deal) with a kiss as soon as you possibly can.

And that kiss is really exciting.

Gotta make the donuts.

I started a new job. There is lots to learn. I haven't written much because of it. It's no excuse. But there it is.

OK, now the downside

The Five Worst Parts

1. Missing the two hour lunches I routinely took in Ecuador

2. Crowded subways in the morning

3. Not having time to shop for a bed, get cable installed, go to the bank, get a haircut...

4. Rats in the subway. OK, everything about the subway.

5. The fact I am in my office on a Saturday. See Item 3.

Top Ten Lists

Top Five Best Things about the first month back

1. Listening to Pandora's "Julieta Venagas Radio" in my office. All the time. It's like no other music exists besides, Juanes, Shakira, Julieta, and Mana.

2. The commute from my house to work. The M98 takes you down Harlem River Drive and drops you off right by the 6 at 116th Street. Being overground for half of the ride is so freaking great.

3. Thai Food for lunch.

4. Eating Ethiopian Jill, Michael, Michael, Sarah, Tiffany, Susan, and Erik.

5. Having my stuff stored in the basement, so I can move in a little at the time.

Remember this feeling

So of course I have to blog about this week, after imagining myself part of the Obama team back in 2007. I continue smitten and now am just very, very gratified. Very proud. Obviously, the last few days have been unlike any other time we have ever lived.

Getting on the plane Monday, going to volunteer in North Carolina, which was just called by the way, I found myself thinking about this expectancy, this certainty that everything had the potential to change and how we are never going to feel exactly this way again. During election day, I started to get nervous, glancing anxiously at Palin signs, accidently canvassing the house of a Bush supporter, phone banking to harassed young women. The organizers gave us phone lists and instructed us to call people who said they were on the way to the polls to keep calling until people told us that they had actually voted. This one poor young woman said to me laughing, "Ya'll have called me four times today. I am going, I am going."

Of course we now know that is was that how he won states like North Carolina. By bugging people.

Election night, there were the first fearsome minutes when Barack Obama only had three electoral votes. And then polls started to close. States started to light up. We had planned to go the Kay Hagan party at the Coliseum, although my father refused to commit to going until he knew she had won. He thought her concession speech would be too depressing. But we headed out the door right after they announced her Senate victory over Elizabeth Dole. And we were at the Coliseum, listening to a blues band, when they called Pennsylvania. When they called Iowa. When they called Ohio.

It was at this juncture that there was one of these most spontaneous moments, when two strangers hug one another. The woman standing next to me looked at me and we just embraced. And when I looked at her face, I realized, without asking, that she was my kindergarten teacher. And then I was almost hysterical in frantic conversation, explaining who I was, when I was in her class at Brooks Elementary. We both started crying from the impact of our lives crossing in these two very different moments in history, one 1978 the other 2008. I can only imagine the meaning of the night for her. But, thinking of it now I realize that it is my first years of education are more than any other thing, except for my parents, the basis of why this election is so moving to me. In 1978, I began kindergarten at a school which had only been really integrated with a cross-town bussing initiative a few years before. In that school, where I had Mrs. Sharp, I learned about the civil rights movement. In that school, I had my first encounter with difference between myself and other students. Although I didn't have words for it then, I became conscious of class differences, differences in social capital and racism. I was raised on the lore of how much had changed in my city from just a few short years before.

My dissatisfaction with my country, my disaffection with this society that I fiercely love comes out of those experiences. The idea that we have made some mistakes and gotten things wrong, but every once and awhile we get things right, and things move forward is what simultaneously fascinates and enrages me about the United States. And the only times I got into political arguments in Ecuador was when I tried to explain this to someone and couldn't convince them.

And here in this election is the overwhelming evidence that it's true. When we get it right, we really get it right. It's the in-between times where you have to take it on faith, that justice will be done. The in between times are often long, and sometimes faith wavers.

What I have noticed among some Obama voters is that the election has taken on dimensions that go beyond politics or even social justice. The election has become spiritual for some of us. I think it is because Obama's election is evidence of so many things that people want to be true. It proves their faith.

And I think its not just in the United States but in other parts of the world that people live with this paradox. My friend Maria, a leftist activist of many years from Argentina said right after she bought the election night bottle of champagne.

"Mañana estaremos pensando en vos y yo especialmente en ese país que me ha llenado de ira y tambíen de emociones y alegrias."

"Tomorrow, we will be thinking about you and especially about this country that had filled me with such rage, and emotion and joy."

Almost Two Weeks in New York

Being back has alternated between being exciting, stressful, numbingly similar to how it felt before, and then sometimes, nice. There are people everywhere. You forget how far it takes to go 2-3 miles on the subway. The morning commute can be harrowing. Of course, I knew this culture shock would happen.

Needless to say, I am very, very, very excited (and nervous) about the election.

Estar aquí ha alternado entre ser emocionante, estresante, y similar a como siempre sentía y de vez en cuando lindo. Hay gente en todos los lugares. Se olvida cuanto tiempo se lleva ir 2 o tres millas en el subte. El viaje a trabajo puede ser espantoso. Por supuesto, sabía este choque de la cultura me iba a pasar.

Estoy muy, muy, muy emocionada sobre la elección.

El descanso antes del...

Esta idea de "blogear"en ingles y español simplemente no funcionará. Es decir que escribir cada entrada de blog en los dos lenguajes será difícil por que algunas cosas digo en ingles y otras cosas digo en español y punto. Tengo mensajes para algunas personas que solo hablan un lenguaje. Otras cosas, bueno las cosas que digo en ingles, muy frecuentemente no se como decir en castellano. Y escribir algo y enviarlo a alguien para corregir, con todos las cosas que mis amigos tienen que hacer, olvídenselo.

Estoy en los últimos días de tranquilidad. La semana que viene voy a regresar a Nueva York, buscar acogida y ropa para trabajo, empezar mi trabajo con dos días tentativos de labor. Tengo algunos proyectos de vida que serán mas difícil cuando tenga mi rutina ya establecida, pero sin la estructura, soy lenta para dedicarme a algo muchas horas al día. Es la idea de que la pereza te da la pereza. Y ni siquiera tengo el excuso que estoy de vacaciones por que ya he estado de vacaciones hace un rato. Un buen rato. Un rato vergonzoso.

Pero si he logrado algunas cosas. Leí un libro sobre gerencia de organizaciones sin fines de lucro. Leí la mitad de otro libro sobre la gestión de recursos. Leí casi la mitad del Amor en Los Tiempos de Cólera (en español, por favor.) Se cada detalle de la campaña presidencial de mi tierra de las últimas tres semanas. Entonces, falta algunas detalles para terminar antes de que la vida me domine pero, si he estado bastante productiva. Y también hay la posibilidad de mañana.

Y ahora he escrito una entrada en mi blog. En español.

El Debate

Tuvimos el último debate de la elección y las encuestas dicen que ganó Obama. En el tercer debate McCain estaba mas agresivo pero, desde mi perspectivo al menos, no funcionó. Obama tenía respuestas concretas para cada desafío de McCain. Aunque los dos tenían momentos de enoja muy evidentes, Obama los manejó con mas tranquilidad.

El verdad es que estoy muy optimista. Especialmente con respeto a Carolina del Norte que esta yendo en la dirección de los Demócratas por (para?) la primera vez desde 1976.

For those of you who don't speak Spanish, I am just saying how I think Obama cleaned McCain's clock in the third debate, even though it was obvious the McCain got under his skin a few times.

That and bragging about my home state. Congrats to the NC Coalition for Change.

At Rest

I have neglected this space terribly. There was vacation time in Amsterdam, very lovely. I rented a bicycle and made the Dutch angry by stopping in confusion in the middle of bike lanes, ate lots of cheese, bread, stroopwafflen (perhaps the most delicious cookie in the world) and went and saw cows and sheeps and medieval Dutch towns.

Now I am in Cambridge, staying with a friend who has space for a stowaway in between jobs. And after lots of questioning and wondering what will happen, I will be returning to New York. I will be going back to my little apartment, to lots of old friends that I am reconnecting with. I return to the A train, to the pull of bacon, egg and cheese on a roll, and to the temptation of pizza eaten in transit balanced on two greasy paper plates. To Central Park and the Hudson River, and a Manhattan, as Andy says, full of little Carrie Bradshaws, Whole Foods, Crate and Barrel, and newly built high rise luxury condos.

Today I started reading up on various topics that seem like they may be useful in the new position: fundraising, non-profit management, communications. I think more than any of the content digested, doing some kind of preparation helps psychogically by doing something, anything to not feel blindsighted by the arrival of normal nine to five life once again.

I mean even on my very busiest day in Cuenca, I took an hour for lunch. Fifteen minutes to eat at my desk while I answer my email is the type of reality check I am bracing for.

But of course, given the events of the last couple weeks, one will not complain about being busy with a new job.

Erik speaks in metaphors

Quotes of the evening with my American friend who lives in Amsterdam, which involved several bottles of wine:

"Republicans are Shoney's. Democrats are Chili's. I would way rather eat at a Chili's than in Shoney's but they aren't really all that different."

On the subject of whether I am politically correct or not: "If you were a book you would be a Jane Smiley novel."

I later pointed out if he had really wanted it to sting, he would have said I would be a Barbara Kingsolver novel.

En español, dios mió no tengo idea si los comentarios traducirán o no.

Erik, mi amigo gringo que vive en Amsterdam dijo después de mucho vino:

“Los Republicanos son Shoney’s [una cadena de restaurantes bastantes comunes.] Los Demócratas son Chili’s, [otra cadena un que tendria un poco mas variedad (por ejemplo: fajitas.)] Prefiero comer en Chili’s pero los dos no son tan diferentes.”

Sobre el sujeto de que si soy políticamente correcto o no: “Si fueras una novela, serías una novela de Jane Smiley.”

Y lo que le dije es que si el quisiera realmente lastimarme, el diría que yo seria una novela de Barbara Kingsolver.



Apologies to each of these very fine novelists. I would love to be one of their books.

I'm not a President but I play one on TV

I don't love Maureen Dowd, but this column is really funny.

"The people who want English to be the official language of the United States are uncomfortable with their leaders being fluent in it."

In Amsterdam

It's pretty here, they have lots of good cheap wine and cheese and cookies. I heard David Sedaris read tonight. Really I can't complain.

Es lindo acá. Tienen mucho vino y queso muy baratos. Y galletas. Escuché David Sedaris leer hoy. De verdad no me puedo quejar.

Everything is the same

Nada de novedades. Sigo con postulaciones de trabajo, pasando tiempo con mis papis, monopolizando al compu de mi Papi. Extraño a Cuenca hoy. Nada mas.

Nothing much to report. I continue to apply for jobs, hanging with my folks, using my Dad’s computer much more than he should really tolerate. Missing Cuenca. That’s it.

Esta semana incluyó postulaciones para trabajos, y llamando a las viejitas de Greensboro para conversar sobre Barack Obama. Escuché el acento de mis tías y mi abuela en el ritmo y sonido de sus voces. Mucha de mi lista que estaba basada en inscripciones como Demócrata o Independiente y apoyó a Barack, pero algunas señoras, no. Una mujer me dijo que prefería colgar de un árbol que votar para Obama. Esta lenguaje tiene un significado bastante fuerte en el sur de los Estado Unidos porque refiere a nuestra historia brutal de linchas que hasta el ultimo siglo era demasiado común. Yo dependí a mi buen comportamiento sureño. Este acento puede ocultar un montón de otras emociones aunque parezca muy cordial. Simplemente le dije, - OK, muchas gracias por hablar conmigo. Que tenga un buen día.

No hay como cambiar la idea de alguien así.

This week was job searching and calling little old ladies in Greensboro do persuasion calls about Barack Obama. I heard the rhythm and the cadence of my grantmother's and my aunt's voices in theirs. A lot of my list came from voter registration as Democrat or Independants and a bunch of them supported Obama. But not everyone. One woman told me she would rather hang from a tree than support him. I found this to be a little too referential to our bloody and all too recent history of lynchings here in the South and had to depend on my southern good manners, where the twang masks a multitude of other emotions aside from civility (I didn't know how to say that in Spanish...) "Thank you so much for talking to me. Have a nice day." There is no way to change someone like that.

Ugh.

Fin de semana larga

Viernes fui a trabajar para Obama, visitando las casas en College Hill, un sector cerca del Universidad con casas lindas y viejas. La mayoría de personas son liberales, pero a pesar de eso, hablé con un chico cubierto en tatuajes que no podía compremeterse a Obama, con una estudiante universitaria que tenía un montón de preguntas que yo no podría contestar. (Realmente tengo que leer un poco mas sobre sus posiciones antes de seguir con este trabajo. La unica propuesta que conozco en detalle es lo de America Latina.)

Obama Obama Obama

Estaba muy contenta con el discurso de Obama para aceptar la nominación de la partida Demócrata. Creo que hizo lo que necesitaba hacer para responder a los críticos de McCain. Era muy concreta las propuestas que elaboró con respeto a la economía y seguridad nacional. El hizo el caso para convencer votadores que son de clase obrero o de clase bajo medio que las políticas económicas de la derecha no les sirven. Había además antes de su discurso una seria de discursos de personas muy normales, y una señora era de Carolina del Norte. Era una señora del campo, con un acento sureña impresionante. Ha perdida a su seguro medico y por la primera vez en tres décadas votará por una democrática.

El discurso jugó con este idea de celebridad, elaborando los desafíos económica y social de sus abuelos, que su mama sobrevivió con asistencia publica, diciendo “No se que tipo de vida es que John McCain piense que tienen los celebridades [Paris Hilton etc.] pero esta vida es lo que conozco yo.”

También tocó la cuestión de que si el es el candidato típico para ser presidente. Dijo: “Esta campaña no trata de mí. Esta campaña trata de ti”que venció todo el poder de los críticos personales de Obama es una celebridad y no mas.

Finalmente mencionó algunos de los cuestiones mas conflictivos en las políticas estadounidense ahora, el aborto, la inmigración, y el matrimonio gay. El intento era de señalar la tierra en común que se puede encontrar. “Tal vez no estamos de acuerdo en aborta, pero seguramente podemos estar de acuerdo de prevenir embarazos indeseados…. Hay sentimientos muy fuertes sobre inmigración pero yo no conozco a nadie que beneficia cuando una madre esta separada de su bebe.”

Mi única queja es que no dijo nada en español, que me parece una oportunidad perdida muy grande, pero ya, listo. Lo adoro.

Amigos, disculpen a mis español, yo se que debe ser terrible. Ya esta yendo. Eso es un intento de mantenerlo. Envíeme correcciones, exclamaciones de preocupación, lo que sea.

PD. El VP de McCain es Sarah Palin, gobernadora de Alaska.

Justo antes de irme

No puedo creer que ya se terminó. No entra a mi cerebro. Hoy los voluntarios del nuevo grupo llegaron a la oficina después de su capacitación, y recordé mis primeros días acá hace exactamente dos años haciendo el mismo. Estoy llena de emoción para las cosas que llegan y llena de nostalgia para mi vida en este país. Resolví mi tristeza anoche por pegar una gran borrachera en la Plaza Foch. Demasiado vino y tapas, y después dos mojitos. Dios mío, que tan extraños son estos momentos de cambio de la vida.

Adios

La Madrina

Norman y Carolina me pidieron ser la madrina en su matrimonio. Leí este texto en la fiesta.

Mis Queridos Norman y Carolina,

En muchos momentos hemos conversado sobre este día y ya llegó. El dia en que ustedes se comprometen a pasar la vida juntos, con nosotros: sus familias y sus amigos presentes, celebrándolos y apoyándolos. Recuerdo una tarde muy linda cuando Carolina y yo estábamos caminando por el río al centro, durante el tiempo en que Carolina y Norman hacían educación sobre VIH en colegios con el Recorrido Participativo. Le pregunté a Carolina si había pensado en la posibilidad de casarse con Norman. ¡Si! me dijo y conversamos sobre su matrimonio. En ese momento era algo para imaginar nada más. Ellos han pasado por muchas etapas de su relación y de sus vidas y han tomado la decisión de unirse para enfrentar el mundo como equipo.

Les agradezco por haberme incluido en esta celebración como su madrina y les agradezco por haberme incluido en sus vidas como amiga. Me falta una vida de experiencia sobre el matrimonio, pero se algo de ustedes. Conozco dos amigos, con corazones muy grandes, con intelectos muy listos, con personalidades muy vibrantes y con capacidades muy amplias para mejorar a sus comunidades y a su país. Me parece muy lindo que hayan juntado sus esfuerzos primero como amigos, después como pareja y ahora como matrimonio. Me parecen un equipo que será difícil de frenar.

Creo que este es la parte en que debo dar algunos sugerencias sobre la convivencia. Hay una lista impresionante de ideas para los matrimonios nuevos que podría mencionar. Que sean pacientes, que se escuchen uno al otro, que cuiden sus espacios juntos y también sus espacios individuales, sin embargo, más bien en este momento les ruego que conserven el vínculo que han construido juntos. Recuerden que tan especial y que tan inusual es un amor como el de ustedes y que en los momentos difíciles estaremos ahí para escucharles, para sugerir que tal vez no era tan grave lo que dijo el otro, para llorar y para reír y para apoyarles en este viaje.

Les deseo diversión, éxito, pasión, afecto, y cariño. Les deseo días largos cuando no salgan de la cama y noches divertidas cuando pasen tiempo con amigos. Les deseo momentos cuando se rían hasta que les duelan las barrigas y comidas ricas en su casa cuando no puedan comer más. Les deseo todos los hijos que quieran.

Les quiero mucho de lejos o de cerca y les felicito en su matrimonio.

Also in English, this should translate better. A cultural note: The madrina in the wedding is one of the most important people apparently, and is the one who serves as a model to the bride for how she should conduct her married life. Ahem. The fact I have never been married didn't seem to bother anyone except for the priest. Also I had to go to wedding classes with them one night, where we discussed the homosexual threat to the institution of marriage. Somehow I managed to keep a straight face through all of that. Here is what I said:

My dear Norman and Carolina,

At many points we have talked about today and now it is here, the day that you commit to spend your lives together, with us, your friends and family present, supporting you and celebrating you. I remember a beautiful after when Carolina and I were walking to the center by the river, during the time when Carolina and Norman were doing HIV education in high schools in Cuenca with the Recorrido Participativo. I asked Carolina if she has thought about marrying Norman and she said YES! and we talked about what it would be like if they got married one day. At that time it was something to imagine and nothing more. They have passed through many stages of their relationship and of their lives and have made the decision to face the world together as a team

Thank you for having included me in this celebration as the madrina y for having included me in your lives as your friend. I don't have an lifetime of experience with marriage but I do know something about you all. I know two friends with big hearts, with quick intellects, with vibrant personalities and ample capacities to improve their communities and their country. It is very lovely that you united your efforts as friends, later as a couple and now in your marriage. You strike me as a team that will be difficult to stop.

I think this is the part in which I am supposed to give you advice on living together. There is an impressive list of things I might say to a new couple. I could say, for example: be patient, listen to one another, protect you space together, as well as your time apart. But I think its better in this moment to simply beg you to take care of the bond that you have built together. Remember how special and how rare is the a love like yours. Remember that in difficult moments we, your friends, will be there to listen to you, to suggest that maybe what the other said wasn't quite so bad, to cry with you and to laugh with you and to support you in this journey.

I wish for you fun, success, passion, affection, and tenderness. I wish you long days when you don't leave the bed and nights out with your friends. I wish you moments when you laugh until your stomach hurts and delicious meals when you eat until you can't eat anymore. And I wish you all the kids you want. I love you very much from closeby or far away and I congratulate you on your wedding.

Todos Santos

Leí este texto en mi despedida sábado.

Me preguntan ¿Que extrañaré cuando me vaya? Mi ruta de trotar. Los eucaliptos. El rió, lleno y violento después de la lluvia. Las nubes que acercan a la ciudad desde Cajas, descendiendo encima de nosotros, cubriéndonos como una cobija. Mote pillo, canelazo, encebollado, llapingachos, canguil durante almuerzo. Mil sopitas, esferitos, tardecitas, gorditas, mañanitas, cafecitos, agüitas, vinitos y unitas no más.

Sin duda mi tiempo acá en este pueblo chiquito me ha marcado fuerte. Que en un momento de mi vida, salí de la isla de Manhattan por un montón de motivos, que incluyeron mi uso de preposiciones en castellano. Solté mi relación conflictiva con mi ciudad adoptada y llegué a Ecuador.

Es algo muy difícil de verbalizar, como sientes en las primeras semanas en un nuevo país. Todo extraño, todo nuevo. Probando mote, cuy, morcilla, patas de pollo, y tratando desesperadamente de entender cuarenta. Sobreviviendo sin las partes de mi mismo que me gustan lo más: mi capacidad de articular ideas complejas y de hacerse reír la gente.

Y por azar o diseño de algunos fuerzo del universo o de mi gobierno, me enviaron acá, a Cuenca. Vi la Avenida Huayna Capac, la Calle Larga, la Escalinata, el Río Tomebamba, La Parque de la Madre, y como escribí en el momento, Cuenca me gustó, me coqueteó, me convenció como un amante nuevo.

Al principio no entendí mucho de lo que estaba pasando. Dije cosas y recibí algunas miradas apreciativas pero faltaba la confianza y la comodidad de estar con amigos. Con muchos de ustedes las primeras interacciones fueron indicativas de nuestras amistades. Carolina me prestó un libro. Pablo me advirtió sobre las políticas de la oficina. Julio se preocupó por mi tobillo torcido. Maritza me abrazó. Ely me invitó para helado y escuchamos Julieta Venegas en El Angelus. Y poco a poco, conociendo más de ustedes, construí la constelación de amigos y encontré un hogar acá. No sabía que era posible de conocer a tantos amigos, tantas personas en un lugar con que comparto un poco del alma. Por ustedes de haber venido acá ha sido la mejor decisión de mi vida.

Mil memorias, mil momentos compartidos con ustedes. Trotando a Turi, comiendo en el Mister Frogs, copas de café en Cinema, jugando verdades en She, sacando fotos en mi casa, bailando en la Mesa, tomando Clos de Pirque, comiendo comida exquisita en la casa de María y Marion, viendo baile en el Teatro Sucre, planificando eventos, campañas, manejando crisis, tomando Pilsner, cocinando, riendo, chismeando, llorando, discutiendo, y peleando.

Y ahora. Me voy. Pero no es una despedida como tal. Tenemos correo electrónico, tenemos la magía del Internet y todavía funciona la carta de antigüedad también. Hay cabinas y el costo de una llamada a los Estados Unidos es .10 por minuto. Eso significa que una conversación de 30 minutos cuesta menos que dos dvd’s.

Les agradezco por haber compartidos sus vidas, sus historias y pensamientos. Hemos hecho bien y mal juntos. Somos todos santos en un momento u otro. Y les quiero mucho.

OK, now in English, even though some of it really doesn't make any sense in English....

They ask me, what will you miss when you go? My running route. Eucaliptus trees. The river, full and violent after the rain. The clouds that approach the city from Cajas, descending on us, covering us like a blanket. Mote pillo, canelazo, encebollado, llapingachos, and popcorn at lunch. Thousands of soups, afternoons, fatties, mornings, coffees, teas, wines and little bits. (That last sentence really loses a lot in the translation.)

There is no doubt that my time here in the "little town" has changed me. That in a moment of my life, I left Manhattan for so many reasons, including my troubled use of the prepositions in Spanish, I let go of my embattled relationship with my adopted home and came to Ecuador. It's something thats very difficult to explain, how you feel during the first weeks in another country. Everything new, everything different. Trying mote (something like hominy,) guinea pig, chicken feet and trying desperately to understand a card game called Forty. Surviving without the parts of myself that I like the best, the ability to articulate complex ideas and to make people laugh.

And by fate or design of some force of the universe or my government, they sent me here to Cuenca. I saw the Avenida Huayna Capac, the Calle Larga, the Escalinata, the Río Tomebamba, the Parque de la Madre, and as I wrote then I liked Cuenca, she flirted with me, she convinced me like a new lover.

At first when I got here, I didn't really understand much of what was going on. I said things and earned appreciative looks, but I missed the trust and comfort of being with friends. With many of you the first interactions were indicative of the friendships that grew. Carolina lent me a book so I could improve my Spanish. Pablo warned me about office politics. Maritza gave me hugs. Ely invited me out for ice cream and we listened to Julieta Venegas in El Angelus. Little by little, I constructed a constellation of friends and found a home here. I didn't know it was possible to meet so many people in one place with whom you share a little piece of soul. It is because of you, that coming here has been the best decision of my life.

I have thousands of memories, thousands of moments with you all. Jogging to Turi, eating lunch in Mister Frogs, coffee cups en Cinema, playing Truth in She, taking photos in my house, dancing in La Mesa, drinking Clos de Pirque, eating delicious meals in Maria and Marion's house, watching dance in el Teatro Sucre, planning events and campaigns, managing crises, drinking beer, cooking, laughing, gossiping, crying, arguing, and fighting.

And now, I am leaving. But it isn't a goodbye as such. We have email, we have the magic of the internet, and the old fashioned letter still works too. There are telephone booths and the cost of a call to the United States is $.10 a minute. This means that one conversation of 30 minutes costs less that two pirated dvd's. I thank you for sharing your life, your stories, and your thoughts. We have done good and bad together, but we are all saints at one time or another. And I love you very much.

Viaje

I have been running around the country, left all the wierd awkwardness of leaving for a few days, have lots of pictures which I will have to post once I get back to Cuenca and my camera cable. Monday, I left in the late afternoon with Gustavo, Esteban, and Monica for Guayaquil. We continued on overnight to Esmeraldas, which is on the North Coast of Ecuador. We got to Atacames, a beach town full for the holiday weekend, on Tuesday morning and spent a lovely day on the sand. We ate lots of patacones, ceviches, menestre, carne asado, camarones apanados, jugo de coca y tamarindo. Wednesday we went to Mompiche, an almost deserted beach only accessible by gravel road, unfortunately we left late, without really checking out the geography, arrived at three, only to have an hour on the beach because the last bus back to Atacames was at 4:40 and we had already paid for our hotel there. Thursday we went whale watching and saw a gigantic whale, I think it was a humpback, but need to look it up. I would have enjoyed it more if I hadn´t been huddled in the bottom of the skiff, green in the face, just wishing to be on tierra firma, but it was still really beautiful. Friday Monica left us to go meet her parents in Playas, y we headed down to Muisne to visit Ali, another volunteer from my group. Muisne has a giant, deserted beach lined with palm trees. The town itself is very basic, running water only once a day, but Ali treated us royally, cooking for us, making the first real coffee I had had in six days. Gustavo and Esteban headed back towards home Saturday afternoon and Ali and went and walked to the end of the island by the beach. Last night I came down to Quito, fighting a cold and killing time in the terminal until it was light enough to venture out to Lynnsey´s house in South Quito. Tomorrow I go the visit my host family from training, to buy gifts in Otovalo and if things work out as I would like to el Valle de Chota before heading back to Cuenca.

Sunday

A quiet day, breakfast and coffee with Julie, who was in from her site to see Batman (in Spanish unfortunately, and I didn´t think it was really all that good, but I may need to see it again.) Then groceries and making lunch, and tea with Paola. Then a jog, which was terrible, I was exhausted, and ran even slower than normal, if that is humanely possible. The afternoon was beautiful though. Then a shower, then internet, and later, likely puttering around the house. Nothing major. But now there are only three Sunday´s more in Cuenca.

Take a lesson from the strangeness you feel

Things I am excited about:
Seeing my parents
Living with Jessica in Cambridge for a few weeks
Speaking Spanish and talking about Ecuador with Chio
Drinking beer with Kathryn
Shopping for gifts in Otovalo
Being in Greensboro without a thousand holiday related chores to deal with
Carolina and Norman´s wedding
Good bye parties (six scheduled so far)
My Dad´s retirement party
Volunteering for Obama
Visiting Angela, Benjamen, Jill, Cris, Michael, Trinity Lutheran, in New York
Having nothing in particular to do for more time than I can imagine
Drinking wine with Ted
Talking shit with Marcus

Things I am sad about:
Leaving Ecuador
Friendships that haven´t gone so well (one in particular)
That fact that I wanted nothing more that to meet someone and when I finally did it was exactly the wrong moment to meet someone
My terrible Spanish grammar

Things I am not excited about:
Job searching
Being in between things
Living at home
Losing my Spanish

Hometown Blues

(Apologies to Kathryn and Steve Earle for shamelessly appropriating their title...)

I will be home on August 27, after a red-eye from Quito to Atlanta to Greensboro.

Put the beer in the fridge for me?

Thanks!

¿Como se dice Ouch en Castellano?

I took a Spanish test today to see what level of Spanish I achieved with two years. According to the woman who gave me the exam, I have a great level of fluency, a terrific vocabulary, but systematic and basic mistakes in the use of gender and verbs that prevent me from testing any higher than an Advanced Medium, which is what I started out at. So freaking depressing that while I was busy living, having arguments, making people laugh, educating people on the difference between sexuality and gender, the ways to protect themselves from HIV, developing a community based organization, and all the other crap I did, it didn't mean anything in terms of my official language capacity.

And it’s always the dumbest things that make you cry inconsolably in the in-between-times.

I need a Microsoft word grammar check for when I talk.

Tomé un examen de español hoy día para ver que nivel de español he logrado en estés dos años. Según la señora que me dio el examen, tengo un gran nivel de fluidez, un vocabulario increíble, pero errores sistemáticos y básicos sobre el uso de género y verbos que me previenen de recibir más que un Avanzado Medio, que es la calificación con que empecé. Lo encuentro que tan deprimente que mientras que yo estaba ocupada viviendo, discutiendo, haciendo que la gente se reían, educando la gente sobre la diferencia entre genero y sexualidad y las formas de protegerse de VIH y desarrollando una organización de base comunitario, y todo el resto de las cosas que hicieron, no significaba nada para mi capacidad de español oficial.

Y siempre son las cosas más tontas que te hacen llorar inconsolablemente en los momentos entre los momentos.

Necesito una revisión de la gramática de Microsoft Word para cuando hable.

¿O es cuando hablo?

Jeez.

Housecleaning

I started today, tossed out all my workshops and posters, cut up a bunch of those plastic bound packets. (Harder than you would think.) I found my file of to do lists (I save then obsessively.) But I was relentless, even the ones with notes from conversations with friends, where I wrote down what the earrings that Pablo brought me from Chile are called. Trapelacuchas, they are Mapuche. I found the notes Julio made when he corrected the emphasis I put on words like sanduche y imagino.

I had a fit of melacholy, as the contents of the bookcase began to shrink, as I began to divide things up into piles to give to people. A cup of coffee and peanut butter and honey sandwich made seemed to provide some comfort. But yes I am settling in for the duration of the transition blues.

Jobs

One of the people that I talked to while I was deciding to do Peace Corps or not was woman who works in a large federal agency after having spent many years in Latin America. She asked me why I would consider interrupting my career to do something like this. She said I would need to start applying for jobs six months before I finished Peace Corps, because at age 35, to have a gap in my resume would be very risky. I tried to explain that learning Spanish and doing public health work in a developing country, albeit as a Peace Corps volunteer, seemed to be to be an enhancement of my professional skills, rather than a time out. (Although I must admit that my life here, getting out of the house at 10 am, scheduling endless coffees with friend beginning at 3 pm is terribly relaxed in comparison to working in a foundation in New York.) The idea was though that I would be prepared to do a wider array of international work, having been here, and that I would speak another language, a valuable job skill.

Blady blady blah.

Those of you who are following my process in the blog know I had a big interview, that is went great and that I was waiting to hear. I didn´t get offered that position and after the disappointment (it really would have been a coup) I decided to just chill out and wait. Gap on my resume or no, credit card debt or no, I decided to focus emotionally and mentally on closing stuff out here, finishing reports, curriculums, final meetings and the like. There will be time enough in September to circulate my resume to every person I can think of, haunt Idealist every morning, chat people up that I haven´t spoken to in two years or more.

There are friends to visit, elections to help out with, things to keep me busy. The job will come.

Of course ask me again in eight weeks if I am so tranquil. Then we will see.

Swimming pool diaries

We had our field trip with my group, the gay kids. We spent the day at a hosteria, ate lunch there, played pool, swam, did water ballet. Gustavo and I danced salsa in the front room, where the pool table was, overlooking the green mountains of Yunguilla. We had fun and it was a good closure to the long series of workshops that we started in December. Here are some pictures.

Mudanzas

The same thing happened to me when I lived in Northern Ireland that is happening to me now. I think it is the effect of small Catholic cities (leaving aside the politics of calling Derry Northern Ireland a catholic city, my Derry was Catholic) I started to develop nostalgia, nostalgia for my home, nostalgia for the south. For fiddles and barbecue, for those green humid evening in summer when the smell of mown grass and the sounds of crickets penetrate everywhere. Being in a place with a much richer and individual sense of place than my own makes me focus on the elements of my home that I do find unique, special, and comforting

And of course when I actually spent time there, I remember that some of this idealized loveliness isn´t quite what exists when you go there. Some of this North Carolina is what you get in the hollywood version of the South, and some of it is connected to the memories and sensations of childhood. Often what is noticeable about Greensboro when I spend time there is the homogeneity of it. The strip malls, the Starbucks, the fact that you have to drive everywhere.

Then there are the elderly gentleman talking to you about evolution in CVS. I am not sure quite what to call that. It´s not homogeneity. And its not the part of the South that I particularly like.

And so, considering where to spend the weeks or months after coming home, these thoughts come in to play.

Better

Leaving and ending things is always an up and down. Last week I just wanted to be done with everything quickly, rip the bandaid off, and be on my way, but now I am settling in for the long goodbye, the despedidas, the nostalgia, the wierdness. This week at least I am embracing it and looking forward to lots of QT with everyone.

I took Aida and her kids and Marilyn and her baby to the hot springs in nearby Baños on Sunday. Her kids lasted much longer than us Peace Corps volunteers that went. We all flaked and went home early and the family stayed until the pools closed. I started to get really sad during the course of the afternoon. The event was planned as a despedida activity, and it signalled the real beginning of the end. In the course of marking your departure, you sometimes open up new and stronger bonds with the very people you are leaving. The kids were charming, Aida was super affectionate. I felt like something was starting and ending at the same time.

Ups and Down

In the midst of a complicated personal week, there are some good things.

1) The nomination of Barack Obama as the Democratic candidate. We are in for a long bumpy high stakes ride, but he has made it this far and my I am proud of him and proud of us.

2) In the domestic violence shelter where I give workshops on parenting, the social worker told me that she heard one of the mother´s I have worked with for over a year announcing to her son that she knew he was waiting for her to hit him, but she wasn´t going to. No matter what he said to her or how he behaved she was not going to hit him. She was patient, cool, and firm and the social worker thought that the workshops I have done played a role in giving her other options besides threats.

So. That´s the good stuff. The bad stuff is: waiting interminably to hear about jobs, interpersonal stuff gone all awry, conflicts of personal space, punctuality, cultural differences, feeling like a third wheel all the time here, a sensation that people in couples, people in love are just more entendible to everyone in a place like Cuenca, realizing that my way of being generous and open and available to everyone is in certain ways just another strategy to meet people to find friends, and not so generous after all. Here is trips me up especially, because it isn´t returned in the way I expect it, I get hurt and angry, and then everything is a mess.

Closing time

I am in Quito with the rest of my Peace Corps group, minus the twenty people who went home early, dealing with administrative details, benefits, career planning. Everything is planning their next steps, grad school, roommates, extensions, backpacking. I find it all very endearing, really.

Go Lutherans and California

The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has approved a new policy of allowing gay and lesbian pastors in committed relationships to continue in their ministries. This came over the wire to me in Ecuador and I was like, that is MY church.

And of course the big decision in California is incredibly exciting.

Things that happened since the last time I wrote

I saw Maná in concert; I helped plan and execute a five night gay and lesbian film festival; I gave a taller on female sexuality in which everyone cracked up because in the middle of it I took off my sweater, as if I was getting well, warm; I was the fifth wheel on an otherwise lovely beach trip; I ran by the river a bunch of times; I had a job interview in New York. I mean, I had a job interview with someone in New York through Skype. I was in Cuenca.

In Which I Kick Myself for Not Reading Emily´s Blog For the Last Two Months

Good stuff people... Check it out.

"Because a woman should be entitled to express her malformed opinions based on ridiculously selective evidence and randomly-attached thoughts just like a any man should. For Ann Coulter, a Bill O'Reilly."

Time passes slowly when you´re searching for love

I let a long time go by without writing. Time has been passing in a funny way. On one hand I am busy, starting to see the end of my time here, happy about it, concerned to make sure all the money gets spent, all the workshops get planned, all the things I said I might do at one time or anonother get done, or at least there is the possibility of someone else to step in and do them. On the other hand, I have to stop and appreciate the fact that my life is relatively calm, certainly in comparison to the life I had in New York. And I have to really acknowledge the fact everyday that my circle of friends is much more fully knit and populated by extraordinarily affectionate people than anywhere else I have lived. I mean, my friends in New York are wonderful, but in New York, everyone else is so wrapped up in their own life, and you just see people with so much less frecuency that you function much more independently and alone there. I was explaining to someone who loves Friends that really that kind of community, where everyone just finds each other in the coffee shop and the apartment, doesn´t really exist in New York. Here it kind of does. In contrast to how I what I might have said in moments in the past, lately I have really felt like my life, my story here has become part of the story of several other people. And taking yourself home to cry or nurse your wounds without anyone noticing is a lost cause, because nothing is really all that private here. I get my feelings hurt by one person, I get set up with someone who shows no sign of biting (as in no interest) but before I can really allow myself to get too bothered by it I have my friend Esteban in my kitchen waxing philosophical on how to meet every day with excitement, instead of with the dreadful panic that I will be alone forever only because that is how it seems in this moment.

So what to do with this revelation? The idea that I found a community here that make me feel, not always, but from time to time, simply happy. Simply happy to find myself here among that people I have come to know.

Try to replicate this in the next place I go?

Not move back to New York?

Stay longer?

Move on to something else that might not be so far away?

In moments of frustration, some of my well-being of late has been predicated on the fact that I have begun to Make Plans, to think about the Next Thing. To Submit Resumes. And that the beginning of leave taking is what is provoking all this nostalgia.

Dunno. I have to think about it more.

I finally saw the Science of Sleep

I just need to say that I find it extremely unnerving how much I identify with the Gael Garcia Bernal´s protagonist in this film.

Jocelyn and Fanesca

Back in 2005, I read this article about fanesca and Cuenca by Calvin Trillin, little knowing would one day live here. (My fellow gringa-in-Ecuador blogger Muerta de Risa also referenced this article last year around this time and I looked but I couldn´t find the post.) Anyhow, the article is funny and describes in loving detail many aspects of Cuenca that have come to be familiar to me. Trillin also bemoans his grasp of the Spanish language in a manner in which I really identify with. He says of his placement exam in the spanish school where he signed up for classes: "I’ve spent some time since then contemplating the possibility that I might be too old for the subjunctive." Amen to that. I prefer that my teacher never teach me the subjuntive if I can avoid it.

Apart from his adventures learning the language the article details a week of eating as much fanesca as he possibly can during Semana Santa. Fanesca is the traditional fish stew that is served during Holy Week and an especially big thing in Cuenca. I ate it this year in the domestic violence shelter where I give workshops. Jocelyn, mod in her white boots and her pink sweatshirt helped me celebrate it. Thus a short photo essay dedicated to our lunch together.

My Beautiful House

So not what I expected when I signed up for the Peace Corps. It only costs $20 more than than last place and its like ten times nicer.

Varios Notas

I found myself responsible for two cats and many plants belonging to friends who have been out of the country for awhile. The cats were easy, they came in when I came in, ate, lounged while I check my internet and went on their way when it was time for me to go. They are outdoor cats, and I have forgotten how lovely it is to be able to put a cat outside and know it will come home. The plants were another matter. I inherited the housesitting responsibilities from another friend who did not check the list of instructions and forgot an entire balcony of plants, which when I arrived were disturbingly brown. I did follow the instructions left by my friend Maria but still fear I may have overwatered them in my zeal to correct the problem. My anxiety about killing the plants of Maria (I cannot find the apostrophe on this computer) is made worse by the conversation she had where she announced she was going to hire someone she knew to come in and care for them, because she knew the person would understand the plants, know how to take care of the plants, and love for the plants. How I ended up with the responsibility is a bit mysterious, I am praying that she will not be too distraught.


**********************

It is not to worry anyone (read: Mom) but I have been depressed. My usual evening or so of angst having something to do with my period stretched into four days last week of not wanting to do much of anything. This was compounded by a series of events that led to me being entirely exasperated with my habits of dating, or not dating, not paying attention to people when they notice me, not following up on interest that I get from people, then bemoaning the lack of interest I get from people, and on top of it all devoting all my attention and energy to people who have no intention of dating me, and knowing its not optimal but at the same time being convinced that people I already know, people I already care for, are way more appealing than any stranger.

I spent a lot of time this week wondering why I am so screwed up. It freaking sucks.

***********************

I was walking at dusk yesterday with my friend Carolina and we saw two people snuggling in the street. One sees that all the time here, but it was notable because it was a elderly gentleman and a señora of at least sixty five years. To my eye they were from the campo or at least the outskirts of Cuenca, the woman was wearing the traditional skirt that campesina women wear and the gentleman had was dressed conservatively and humbly. They were completely and helplessly in love, the woman gazing up into his eyes while he caressed her neck. It was a moment worthy of Amelie.

Oof

It was really exciting when my Dad came and got me out of sixth grade to go down the the courthouse plaza and see Geraldine Ferraro speaking as a vice-presidential candidate. But lordie that memory sure has been eclipsed by her making an ass out of herself, saying that Obama is only having the success he is having because he is black.

Kevin Drum says it better than me:

"Implicit in Ferraro's statement is the idea that if Obama were a charismatic young white guy, there's no way he'd be getting any attention. And that's just plain crackers. Charismatic young John F. Kennedy won the presidency in 1960. His brother, charismatic young Robert F. Kennedy, attracted huge support in 1968 and might have become president as well if he hadn't been assassinated. Charismatic young Gary Hart nearly stole the 1984 Democratic nomination from Walter Mondale. And charismatic young Bill Clinton won the presidency in 1992."

And then when people get angry at here, its racism. Yeah. Awesome.

Mississippi and Wyoming

My political commentary for the day:

Yay! Yay! Yay!

When something clicks

Had a good meeting with my group yesterday, who one day woke up with the collective capacity to facilitate a meeting and delegate tasks, where before, they simply either couldn´t. I was really proud of them. The ones with the strong personalities, showed signs of reigning themselves in when they were spilling over. After weeks of really wondering what was going to happen with this process I have been involved in, I feel much more confident. I suppose I should enjoy it before the next wrinkle crops up.

Don´t be a dick

Much to my mother´s chagrin and despite her best efforts, I have a foul mouth. And some of the richest Peace Corps Goal 2 type of cultural exchange has involved explaining the finer points of profanity in English to friends here. Over the weekend I told someone I thought they were a dick. "Such a dick" was actually the exact phrase employed. Of course I apologized profusely for it later. But at the time that I said it, in English, I had to stop and explain why I was saying it and what I meant. It always diminishes that effect of a casually muttered insult in the heat of the moment when you need to do that. And, I continued, no it isn´t sexual and it has nothing to do with sucking, that relates to an entirely different profanity, which I don´t use as a matter of course because I think its, well, offensive.

The Urban Dictionary defines "dick" as "an abrasive man." But I would cast it more broadly, suggesting that the word dick, when not referring to the male organ or to Richard really means more "mean" more than "abrasive." The Free Dictionary agrees with me, providing the definition, "A person, especially a man, regarded as mean or contemptible." This definition leaves open the possibility that a woman can also be a dick, which was what the poor friend in question decided after I explained that my insult was something like pendejo. "You too," he announced.

Mom, I am really sorry about this post.

New York Moments

The last couple days have been characterized by a crankiness which I only become conscious of when conversations in random offices and internet cafes go south and I suddenly find myself speaking through clenched teeth or insisting in something one time more than necessary. It´s the type of thing I find myself doing on a daily basis in New York and one of the things that makes that particular city so exhausting. One person is rude to you and you feel the need to ramp up the rudeness by ten so you have the impression you defended yourself adequately. And you walk away from the conversation asking yourself who was rude first, what tone was it that you took that resulted in the conversation ending so disagreeably. And jeez, how come it had to be that way?

And here its really even more silly, because you are working in an entirely different context where on one hand the various rituals of greetings and civility often buffer little antagonisms that emerge. On the other hand though basic principles of customer service that I might take for granted don´t exist here and so I find myself furious with the internet cafe because of saying, "yes the computers are slow, give Nero a minute," the girl says to me: "Your flash drive doesn´t work." And I hear myself giving the most New Yorkish of speeches about how my flash drive is perfectly fine, etc etc, desperately embarassing my Ecuadorian friend with who I am working.

Si se puede

I was at a friend´s house with cable last night and I watched the Clinton speech, until CNN dropped her unceremoniously to broadcast Obama. I ended up translating most of both of the speeches to spanish for him, and found myself trying to translating the political speak as well. 47 million uninsured, path to citizenship while strengthening borders, jobs going overseas, leaving no child behind all carry their own nuance that is lost on people who have been watching the political dialogue from a distance. During my garbled sound bites in castellano, I tried to explain No Child Left Behind, the sub-prime housing crisis, and the use of gay marriage in the last election, and what I believed were references to MLK. There was a poster that said "Si se puede" which impressed my friend no end. Yep, there´s a bunch of Latinos in Texas.

I was happy, man. I was happy with the speech, I was happy to wake up and read it has officially been called a landslide. I know its too early to really get excited. I know that the general election is going to be a whole different ballgame. But lord, I did feel good last night.

The oldest friends

I got a message from one of my very "first" friends, meaning the ones I met young and who stuck around through all the different stages of our lives, and when we came out on the other end of our twenties, there we were, suddenly with a good portion of our lives lived, and together. It´s a low day here, with me feeling like I haven´t been good at making time for myself or at really getting things accomplished, continuing to feel burned out and impatient with my work, and although I have lots of "new" friends here, I still haven´t sorted out who is going to become an "old" one and who will simply fade into the background of circumstance and I find myself missing the "old" ones.

Anyhow, this friend had a series of life events that while not insurmountable, are not the least bit pleasant and sent me a long email detailing them all. She finished with this, and it made me cry here in the internet, just because it reminded me of the trust and conocimiento with her and with people who are super far away from me these days.

"Every sentence in this begins with "I", right? Sorry about that. But I was thinking about people in the world who really matter and who would instantly understand and of course you were front and centre- no matter where you go, there you are..."

John we barely knew ye

John Edwards pulls out of the presidential Democratic primary today. I´m sad. I´m sorry. I didn´t vote for him, having an absentee ballot which I sent in two weeks ago, but I still would have liked to see him hang in there. I think his candidacy did a lot, brought the question of universal health coverage, poverty, employment, Guatanamo, rendition, and accountability for the horrific damage the Iraq war has done to our country and to Iraq. He staked out certain positions that I don´t know that Hillary or Obama would have touched in the same way if it weren´t for him.

There was lots of silly stuff too. The haircut. The size of his house. But that will get filed away for the a couple elections from now, as a reference point for some other unlucky presidential left-leaning candidate. I worked for the Dukakis campaign and never heard much about that freaking helmet and tank incident until this century.

Sunday, movies, and popcorn

I saw the Ecuadorian film, Cuando Me Toque a Mi today. (It might be translated as When My Number is Up.) It was probably not the greatest pick for my mood, grimly exasperated with many, many things about this country. (Apologies in advance to my most kind Anonymous Cuencano reader who told me to read Freire. He or she will most certainly be offended by this post.) The movie is set in Quito, and its leading characters are an alcoholic mortician, a taxi driver in the wrong place at the wrong time and his wife who is frantically searching for him, a homicidal drug addict, a mother at her young son´s bedside. The movie follows a series of interlocking stories in Central Quito over the course of several days, with reflections on death, family, homophobia, immigration, bribes and influence peddling. It is a really interesting reflection of the brutality of certain aspects of Ecuadorian culture, the bureaucracy, the incompetence of police, how families support one another selectively and sometimes not at all, according to their norms and biases. I found it to be dead on in its critiques and artistically consistent with its goals, much of the film takes place in the drab pastel hallways of a hospital. I don´t know if this will get released theatrically in the States, but if you run across it, its worth a look.

River, windows, wooden panes, adobe tile floors

I am moving into the prettiest apartment in the world. Next Monday.

Really its the prettiest one there is. Anywhere.

I am super lucky. It is just for seven months, but heck, you can spend a lot of time in your apartment in seven months. You can invite people over for drinks a bunch of times in seven months. You can bake a monton of cookies in seven months.

My friends have a lease they need to break and wanted to fill it with someone good. I live over a motorcycle store, and it took me a good number of days to decide that I should be the one to make their lives simpler. I really dislike moving.

Now everytime I hear a motorcycle being gunned, right under my living room window, I think seven more days, whereas before I just tuned it out and grimaced, you know, inside.

Apparently the upstairs neighbors was praying, like really praying, that I move in. That is a nice compliment.

I will post pictures next week.

Las Mañanitas

I celebrated my 35 birthday during the weekend and yesterday, mainly marking it by drinking way more wine than I should have and making a speech about how old I felt. Andy, who has my same age for a little less that two months, summed up my mood about the whole thing.

"Yes we are 35. Officially and irrevocably. Thank the gods! Did we do what we thought we would? Are we becoming more of who we want to be? A little bit yes and a little bit no, right? Depending on the angle and the day (I find). Welcome. You are now closer to 50 than 20."

New Hampshire and Iowa

Man, Obama was looking great after he won. And Edwards came in second, that also pleased me. We´ll see what happens next week.

Not so fat

When I actually sat down and looked up my kilos in lbs I realized I didn´t get quite as over weight as I thought. I still feel like everything I ate went right to my stomach and I have this ridiculously prominent spare tire, but the last four days, I went jogging three time and counted calories coming in under 1500 every day. So, the new year regime is off to a reasonably good start.

Back home again

I left New York in the middle of a rainy night after watching Rosemary´s Baby with my pal Benjamen, who very kindly stayed up with me all night until I left. My flight left at five am and I got to the airport just a little before boarding. I had a super nice car service driver who sang the whole way to the airport, so I left on a good note and got a decent amount of sleep on the plane. I was reminded how unpleasant air travel is these days in the United States, going through security was ridiculously complicated.

And then I arrived in Guayaquil, trailing my winter coat and a wool sweater in the heat of the coast. Fortunately I had a few days in the beach with friends before I get back to work. I begin 2008 with lots of stuff to do, but not necessarily a clear path for getting it done. I have to plan a bunch of workshops, write a bunch of reports for funders, and negotiate the complicated path of dealing with a community I have been organizing that maybe don´t want me to organize them quite so much anymore. And of course they are Cuencano, so they don´t actually tell me. I guess, though I don´t know for sure, that this is sort of the nature of the territory.