Reverse Culture Shock

Well I am back home in the good old US of A. Couldn't be happier. Couple quick thoughts:

-My first thought as I got off the plane in Houston, Texas was simply pride. Being an American citizen is a priviledge and a ridiculous surge of patriotism coursed through my body when I got to walk through customs in the US citizen line.

-I definitely have changed. One major thing is the way I observe people. When I got on BART here in the Bay Area to head home I was on a train filled with people whom I might have previously judged to be "shady": large baggy clothes, etc. However after spending my time in Ecuador I first observed these people with much less prejudice. I basically saw them as people, as I am so used now to seeing people who dress differently from what some might call the norm. Very interesting and very cool.

-I took a great amount of pleasure in doing very basic things: throwing toilet paper in the toilet, showering, drinking water out of the tap, running next to the pacific ocean, and demolshing some home cooked Beef Burgoneau.

-I was able to talk to people about my experience more easily than I originally thought. Many people tell you that your friends back home dont really care what you are doing, and it feels weird to explain your travels. However, maybe because of the blog, I have found that talking to people about Ecuador is fun and exciting. However, I am weary of starting sentences with, Oh in Ecuador, but haven't had to that much.

-Cabs are way more expensive in the US, but they took the fastest way to my destinations every time I have taken them. It's feels strange to not trust cab drivers to take you the best way, but that's the way it goes.

-I am finally able to fully relax. Between living with a host family, constantly hearing a foreign language, and being a guest in someone's house, it is hard to just sit and relax without stress. I just feel like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

-Everyone in Ecuador says that Americans dont value family, but that's pretty much the dumbest thing I have ever heard. Being back with my family has been absolutely outstanding.

-My mind has become very accustomed to thinking in Spanish. It's strange to not be speaking Spanish at all, and definitely miss it at times. Turns out speaking a foreign language is a pretty fun activity for me.

-The customs officers in the US are surly and mean, or at least the one I had was. My Ecuador customs officer smiled at me and urged me to hurry back. The US person chastized me for writing the date incorrectly on my Passport Form (which I did out of Ecuadorian habit-pretty funny). However the customs officer explained to me that "this is how we do it in America." Shut up jerk. Clearly I know how to write the date.

-I love playing guitar. In fact I got to go practice my christmas carols.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!

Juezdog Kane

NOTE: Please make sure to read the previous entry about the Reina Competition as well.

One quick thing I forgot to add, and I am not really entirely sure how I forgot to add it. Before the whole competition started Shatner introduced each of the three judges. Thus he started off with the beautiful Reina de Ibarra who is known worldwide for making men crumble to their knees. Then the proud uncorrupt consulate of Ibarra who has dedicated years of his life to service or our great city. Then WorldTeach volunteer and English Professor Kane Russell. After each announcement the chosen person got to stand up and turn around to wave to the crowd. When Paulina got up everyone went nuts. The counsulate not so much. After announcing my name? Have you ever been in a room filled with girls waiting for a celebrity to enter and then he finally does? I would say I got a pretty equal reaction. Why? No clue. Probably because half of the people had never seen a white person before. Maybe the reaction was less akin to Brad Pitt walking into a room and more to do with a mouse streaking across the floor. Maybe it was both. Whatever the reason the ovation was extremely kind and as I waved and smiled I even got to see my face up on the big screen.

Ah the big screen live feed. Might have to say that it topped the list of why I found myself chuckling as I lay in bed to go to sleep. There is a columnist for ESPN who describes the ¨1-10 Unintentional Comedy Scale.¨Basically this scale describes events where people are trying to be serious, but end up creating high comedic moments. Shatner doing beauty contests probably comes in at a 5.5. A spanish speaking Shatner probably near a 6. The Unintentional Comedy Scale even has room for people who are trying to be funny, absolutely bomb, and because they bomb so bad somehow you can find humor in it. Chevy Chase´s performance at Princeton´s class day would be a phenom example. Anyway, the camera man filiming the live feed was jaw droppingly out of this world unintentionally funny. I´ll explain.

First was the look on his face. This gent was probably five foot five and normal looking by most Ecuadorian standards. However, when he was filming his face would transform into this look of ohmygod I am shooting Oscar winning cinemetography right now. One eye shut and toungue pierced in his mouth like Charlie Brown drawing a picture of the little red headed girl. Each time he would capture an image his body would transfix itself into a motionless freeze of capturing glory. He might as well have been having relations with Madonna. Secondly were the subjects that the guy captured. He probably spent over half the show panning the audience for hot girls. This intensive search usually found its way to the Reina of Ibarra. Once captured from afar (a shot that included old Kane chuckling like a little schoolboy as he took in these events), he would then pan in to get a close up shot. Slowly slowly he woudl drift right onto the girl´s face until he had the shot he wanted: a perfect glowing shot of every gland, pore, blackhead, nose hair, and eyeball sandman booger. Probably the most unflattering shot a girl could ever ask for. This guy made it a point to give people the high definition shot of hot chick´s imperfections. Plus he would leave the camera on their face about three minutes past the casual smile and laugh shot that people feel comfortable giving. Afterwards it was basically ¨oh man when is this guy going to move on. Hah this is uncomfortable. Wow dude holy crap get that thing away from my face.¨Thank god he had a thing for girls, and left us guys alone. I might have punched him in the teeth.

Back to the competition. The first girl to come out was a beautiful young girl, with a fresh face, and the best dance moves. Kind of felt that she didn´t command the room, didn´t hold her poses, and rushed her intro. Girl #2 is shy beyond belief, but makes nice attempts to smile at the audience. Girl #3 is the most beautiful-tall, curvy, skinny, full black hair, but does little to work the runway. Girl #4 has the least personality and looks the least happy to be at the contest. Gilr #5 has the most personality but lacks in outright drop dead gorgeous beauty. Girl #6 is taller than Shatner, skinny, but also shy. Did I really just write that last paragraph? What is a man to do? I ask Paulina what to grade them on. She reminds me to just do what they invited me for. Judge who is the prettiest girl. Again I ask myself if I am actually making all of this up. Thus after round one I give all the girls pretty equal scores, with girl #1, #3, and #6 reveiving the highest. After all if there is one thing I can definitely do, it´s decide if a girl is pretty or not.

After the opening entrance we bring out the mariachi´s. Nothing really extremely memorable, save for the fact that the guy on the left is as tall, and has a dead ringer haircut to be Frankenstein. Paulina asks me if I think they are good. I am honest and tell her that they are solid, but that I have heard better. They labor through a couple songs, and finish with a pretty dynamite closer. You got to love bands that warm up and get better as their set pushes through. Maybe they were going to open with Hips Don´t Lie, got flustered when they heard Shatner introduce the song, fought with each other to decide their new opening number, couldn´t decide, and thus had to scrap their whole routine for the closing number. Or something.

I take a quick glance at my scoresheet. Traditional dress is up next. Shatner looks pissed off. He hates the traditional dress part of the competition you can tell. However he fires everyone up about the mariachi trio and how they did such a great job of setting the mood for the traditional dress portion of the pageant. Girl #1 comes out after four minutes of Shatnerisms describing the beauty, tradition, and glory of Ibarra´s heritage. She is wearing a full green dress. She kind of reminds me of the Chakita banana lady. She is holding a fan that she works while jumping up and down like a girl in clogs. I instantly give her a 4. Excellent job. This round transpires similar to the first one with girls #1,3, and 6 receiving the best marks, while girl #5 actually also receives a bump in score, as I am covered in flowers that she through at me with a wink in a smile. Kissing up the the judge is always a good idea. Thatagirl. I take a quick glance at Paulina´s sheet to see if we have similar scores. She actually has girl #6, the most senior aged girl, in front but only by a small margin. I still think girls 1 and 3 are the best, but 6 is close behind. We are definitely in for a nailbiter ladies and gents.

The next interlude lasts about seventeen minutes too long. Even Paulina tell me that she feels sorry for the girls having to wait backstage. A group of five teenagers fill the stage with rock music. The drummer turns out to be someone who came to my class for one day. He give me a big wave and they go start going to town. The lead guitarist is actually phenomenal and the bass guitarist provides colorful commentary in between songs. They even invite up another one of their friends, a young heay set girl, to rock some vocals. Paulina and the counsulate ask me what the words mean of the English song they choose. I explain to them that the lyrics mean exactly what all the Spanish songs mean. They started with ¨I am a drunk,¨then, ¨Let´s get wasted, ¨(both in Spanish), ¨I´m an Addict (the English Song)¨, and close with ¨I´m Still Here Drunk and Crazy.¨Can´t believe their song choices at a high school pageant, but the people inj the back of the auditorium who can´t even stand up are loving it. Shatner comes on before their last song is even over. Despite calls for an encore Shatner moves the young group off the stage. No one doubts who the boss is. This is Shatner´show.

Thus we come to the big shebang. The final entrance adorned in a fine evening gown. I take another glance at my score sheet and see that I also have to grade the recorded message, and the answer to a random question administered by Shatner. Good thing I know Spanish.

All the girls look extremely pretty for the evening gown portion. Even Shatner starts insinuating that if he was just a little bit younger he would be striking gold. He even tells girl #3 that he is only seventeen years old when she says she is 15. Again the little voice in my head starts pounding away with the ¨Am I real?¨chant.

I grade the ¨Profoundness of the Message about your Highschool¨category pretty liberally. All the girls explain that they love being crafted into a whole woman rather than just one aspect. Suddenly the Reina competition is a sorority I love you fest.

The Shatner question session is the big time. 10 points for each response. The questions range from ¨What does being a Reina mean to you,¨to ¨What is the importance of family in your life.¨There are no questions or answers about World Peace. Lots of animals, flowers, and love though that´s for sure. Shatner banter with the girls before the questions almost give me a heart attack.

Thus we come to the conclusion of the show. I add up my scores and see that my scores are 25.5, 20, 25, 19, 21, and 24.5. Girl Number 1 takes first prize on my sheet, but only be a hair. I double check my answers. No messing up. Thus all three judges turn in their cards and we add up to see the final winner. Both Paulina and the Counsulate have girl number 6 with the win. Damn. I was hoping for the upset. Ladies and Gents we have a new Reina. Girl number 6. She deserves it. She is pretty and her answers were slightly better than the other candidates. Plus she is a senior. My dream of the young stud upsetting the senior stand by will not be realized. At least girls numbers 1 and 3 will get sashes as well- with number 1 receiving the Simpatica, and number 3 with the fraternidad.

Thus Paulina and I walk up the final score sheet to Shatner. He says thank you and we walk back to our seats, only to be called over again. Shatner doesn´t understand. We have a Reina, a Fraternidad, and a Simpatica, but no Amistad. No dummy Amistad is awarded by the girls. Miss Congeniality actually exists I explain to him. Thank you Sandra Bullock for allowing me to explain my expertise to Shatner. He looks puzzled, Paulina tells him that I am right and he then asks the girls who their choice is. They end up picking Miss Smiley, girl #2 and I am pumped. SHe actually completely bombed her anwer to Shatner´s question, stuttering and crying the whole time, but she now gets to go home with something. Girls number 1 and 3 seems pleased with their finishes. Shatner hams it up ridiculously for the final award. The place goes nuts and Number 6 starts crying. I wonder if there are any other stereotypes I have ever had about beauty pageants that might come to fruition. My head my explode.

My host parents tell me that I did a good job. I even dance the last dance with my winner, girl number 1, after some slime ball consulate grabs Paulina. She tells me that I am a bastard, but everyone ends up just watching me dance anyway because they are shocked to see a gigantic white guy spin, sashay, and twirl a 12 year old in an evening gown. We get a ridiculous applause after finishing the last dance and Paulina give me a big hug goodbye. I congratulate all the Reinas individually and they all thank me profusely. Still my head is pounding pounding away.

¨Did that really just happen to me?¨

The Judge

This story is so good I almost dont even want to write a blog about it, as I might not be able to do last night´s experience justice. Hopefully you remember my entry about Reinas a while back. The Reina phenomenom here in Ecuador is amazing, almost obsessed, and last night I got to experience the beast head on. I present to you Judge Kane Russell. Yup. I know I know: Can´t be true. Oh it was. Last night, at Urcuqui High School I was invited to judge a Reina competition. Apparently I somehow proved to people by walking around the streets of Ibarra that I am a stellar judge of female beauty, and thus I enjoyed one of the most unforgettable memories in my life.

It all started Thursday night at dinner. I haven´t written about it on my blog till now because I didn´t want to ruin the suprise. My host mom asked me during dinner if I would be interested in being a judge at a Reina competition and I casually said yes, thinking that she was joking or kidding. However, once I found out that she was serious I doubled my efforts to make sure that she was going to follow through. One of the toughest things about Ecuador is trying to get people to commit to what they say, as all types of plans here are very tentative. I was mildly afraid that mentioning the event on my blog might jinx the whole shebang entirely. Nevertheless when my mom told me to get dressed all spit and shined, I knew that showtime was nigh. I slipped into my suit, blue shirt, tie, and dress shoes, through some gel in my hair and hopped in the car. Few words can describe my state of mind. Giddy comes to mind. I mean how many people honestly can say that they have been invited to judge a beauty contest in their lives. Plus this isn´t a casual production at a middle school. This is what the people of Urcuqui did last night. Everyone in the whole town attended the reina contest.

Quick background: Basically my host mom heard that the Reina competition at her high school needed a judge-and hopefully a male. She teaches at the town high school of the biggest suburb to Ibarra called Urcuqui. It takes about twenty minutes in a car through completely uninhabited territory. One minute you are in Ibarra with street lights and what not, then you are in a complete wasteland followed by the town of Urcuqui cropping up a ways down the road. The drive to the contest also added to the mood. Through fog and mist we powered to the school only to arrive to bright lights and loud music.

The gym where the pageant took place was your everyday run of the mill gymnasium. Think huge open space, but with stands that go all the way up to the roof. All of the windows were missing from the gym, the floor was made of concrete, but front and center stood a cat walk adorned with a sea of flowers, speakers, and a podium. Right in front of the catwalk sits a small table, with one Reina de Colegio de Urcuqui sash and three chairs. The Reina sash was covered with gold sparkled lettering. My host mom, beaming, escorted me to my seat. Left side of the three judge chairs facing the catwalk. Behind me are the stands that would later fill with probably two thousand people.

We got there pretty early and I was left to look like a dumby for a couple of minutes till my host mom came back to chat it up. However, ten minutes later the second judge showed up: The Reina of Ibarra. You might call her the second biggest Ibarreno celebrity after the mayor. She probably has to stand for five photographs every twenty meters she walks. In fact, since she is the Reina commemorating the 400th year of Ibarra´s existence she is now the proud owner of a brand new car.

Reina Paulina walks up to me and I am definitely impressed by her good looks. She was tall, skinny, curvy, and decked out in powder make up. I think Ally calls it foundation. When my host mom sees her for the first she jumps out of her seat to say hello. In her excitement she forgets to introduce me and so I calmly introduce myself. Judge Reina meet Judge Kane. ¨Is this really happening to me?¨

While we wait for the pageant to start Reina Paulina and I chat it up. Apparently being a reina is a seven day a week commitment. She explains to me that she has probably sixteen or seventeen ¨appearence invitations¨per week. She received several endorsement deals upon winning her crown and gets stopped by everyone and their mother to snap pictures. Tough life I guess, but she did get a brand new car in the deal.

Finally the next judge shows up. Turns out to be the Mayor´s chief of staff and top advisor. Reina Paulina, Counselate whatever his name was, and Kanedog. By now the stands were completely packed with people. A couple of them were so wasted that they couldn´t even stand up. You can feel the electricity in the air.

The first guy to appear on stage is the color commentator pageant master. I wish I could remember his title in Spanish, as I found it funny when Paulina told me, but let´s just call him the Ecuadorian William Shatner. He is short, with hair is either fake or relentlessly blow dried and has a voice that belongs on the radio. Later I find out that his voice actually is on the radio, as he is Ibarra´s top DJ on the airwaves.

I calmly look at my scoresheet to check out what I am supposed to do first. Turns out in Reina competitions there are three entrances for each reina. For the first entrance she will appear in the hand picked by the Reinas casual outfit. The second entrance will be in traditional dress, and the final is an evening gown. For the first entrance I am responsible for awarding a score out of five points for her dance choreography, self introduction, and command of the runway. The second entrance receives a score out of five points for brilliance of their gown presentation and traditional dance. The final entrance is split up into three categories. Five points for their beauty and brilliance in the gown, five points for the proundness of a recorded message describing why they love their high school, and finally TEN points for their ability to answer a randomly assigned question. Awesome. Fifteen points for how hot you are and fifteen for your brain. Someone has killed me and I am now on a TV show or another planet or dreaming. Plus everything is in a magical language that I dont understand. Paulina´s question at her Reina competition asked her what she would do if she found out that one of her friends was gay. She says she related something about about accepting him or her and loving them for rather than in spite of his or her differences.

Shatner now starts running his mouth. This guy really was perfect. Everytime a reina would walk out he would start his routine of how exquisite she was, how she glowed, how the angels are holding their breaths, how mountains were crumbling off in the distance under a magical sunset. Every time he fired off another metaphor about beauty he would crinkle up his nose and shake his head like a rock star trying to hit a high note. ¨Que bella, que bontia, que exquisita.¨Awesome. This guy could make trillions of dollars walking behind depressed peopleall day complementing them to enhance their mood. Plus his voice is Shatner voice, except only in Spanish.

The Reinas chose a nice urban hottie outfit for their opening number. Khaki capri pants, high heeled black hooker shoes, and a black low cut boob shirt. Turns out that each class selects one girl from each of the years at the high school. Thus the first reina is 12 while the sixth and last reina is 17. Upset possibilities are endless. What if the hot freshman stunner usurps the senior who has held the reina crown for three years in a row to spoil her last year in high school. Someone needs to make a movie with Lindsay Lohan and the Olsen twins pronto. Rein-a-Shine we´ll call it. Done.

With the urban hottie outfits on each Reina emerges from the curtained backstage and struts down the cat walk, up to the podium to announce their name, and then back down the cat walk. After that they find a spot where they put one hand on their hip, stick their but out, and casually sway until all of them come out. As the cat walk ends right in front of the judge´s stage, each reina swings her booty at the judges as she turns around. Shakira´s new song Hips Don´t Lie blasts away as the high school girls dance away. The people in the stands are going nuts every time a different girl comes out. Each announcement goes something along the lines of, ¨My name is ____ and I proudly represent the class of ´08. What´s up Urcuqui. Holler!!!!

There´s no way I am doing this justice, but stay tuned for the conclusion hopefully tomorrow.

Signing Off,

The Judge

Que Viva la Chiva!

Que Viva!!

If you ever find yourself in Ecuador and want to express that something is cool just yell out, ¨Que viva ____¨whatever your item is. For example if you saw a Benz and wanted to say that is was cool you would just yell out ¨Que viva La Benz!!¨Then comes the fun part. If no one says anything than you basically can acknowledge the fact that you are not cool. However, if an Ecuadorian yells out, ¨Que Viva!¨Then you know that you are part of the ¨in¨ crowd. It basically means, ¨Long live the Benz,¨and the reply is something like ¨Forever!¨

So what, might you ask, is a chiva? The fun part is that it has no direct translation in English. The closest I can get you is ¨party bus.¨Throughout Ecuador, and especially on the coast, people love chivas, and this past weekend I found out why.

A chiva is about the size of a mini school bus. The front is your basic everyday truck driver´s comparment: steering wheel, bench seat, no seatbelts, and a rear view mirror. However the driver´s column pulls one of the most fun things known to mankind. The back is completely open aired roofed benches with small wooded doors to prevent people from falling our. The benches have small paddings if you are lucky and almost look like a row of pews in a church. The roof of a chiva, however is where the serious action happens. The roof is completely open aired with a bench that traverses the outer edges. On top of the driver´s cabin is an open space perfect for a live band.

That´s right. You basically have a band that sits on top of a bus playing their little Ecuadorian hearts out, while everyone else can climb in and out of the passenger cabin to and from the roof like children on a jungle gym. In fact the only thing that a chiva has besides seats and a band is all you can drink fire water, or aguadiente as it is referred to hear in Ecuador. It has the taste of ANIS, which is closest to black licorice, but actually goes down quite easily with a little gaseosa, or soft drink. I imagine that the Chiva´s design either influenced or came out of a safari car, but Ecuador is really on to something here. If they sold these in the states, chiva rides would easily be minimum a monthly activity.

Anyway my first chiva ride took place in Quito after the bull fight. We met some of our friend´s English classes to form about a twenty person mob ready willing and able to chiva it up for the Quito´s festivals. Quick note about hanging out with Ecuadorians. They absolutely love practicing their English, which is one of the nicest things about being here. Even if people have had their whole lives to study English in schools, they just cannot duplicate the experience here of relating to an English speaker. Every time I meet an Ecuadorian who is trying to learn English I immediately feel validated in my experience. In fact I have several English professors in my classes that know the ins and outs of English grammar, but have huge pronounciation problems. I now realize and am so thankful that I had native Spanish speakers for all of my Spanish classes growing up. It makes such a huge difference and I am glad that I can help out the people of this country in the same way that my Spanish teachers helped me.

Anyway the chiva rolled up and my first thought was suprise. It´s really not very big at all. Probably the size of one of those Airporter shuttles. The band is also hilarious. They remind me of this one scene from the Beatles´cartoon, Yellow Submarine, when they first unfreeze Seargeant Pepper´s lonely Hearts´Club Band before they go on to defeat the Blue Meanies. The band all wears colorful clothing, bobs up and down, while playing basic party\carnival tunes. I was delighted.

I started off my chiva experience on the passenger pew set up downstairs part. It´s a great place to chat with friends and shoot the breeze while passing around some beverages. Have I mentioned yet that the word ¨germ¨doesn´t exist in Ecuadorian Spanish? Every time you share something with someone it comes out of the same bottle. For example if I went out for drinks with four of my friends and we ordered fou beers, we would start with the first bottle and pour just enough beer into each of our respective glassses to kill the first bottle. Then we would move on to the second, third, and fourth. I actually like the comraderie of it all. An added plus is that the beer stays colder because you dont have someone grabbing it with their hands every couple of seconds.

Just as we were all settling in someone revved up the lets go dancing chant, so we stopped in a local square and all started running around like chickens with our heads cut off. Eventually we formed a circle and started doing the bunny hop at my urging. I had flashes of the Pide Piper of Hamlin as I lead the Ecuadorians around and around the circle.

For the rest of the ride I boarded the roof. The capacity is probably close to 12 people. We had probably 25. Everyone was falling all over each other as we chitty chitty bang banged around the streets of Quito. I am convinced that I am having a better time than Pat Swayze had in Dirty Dancing. Every two seconds or so someone would yell out a ¨Que Viva¨chant and we would all respond in unison. Eventually ¨Que viva¨transformed into ¨Que Beba ____,¨which basically means ¨I hope _____ gets drunk.¨

The funniest part of my chiva experience in Quito again involved being six inches taller than everyone and their mother. Since we had so many people on the roof, there was no way that we could all sit down, so some people had to stand up. Thus as I was taking my shift standing up I took a telephone wire to the forehead. No one else even came close to brushing the wires with their hair, but I took one square in my forehead´s brow. Lucky for me my pre evolutionary gift simply let the telephone wire slide right off my head without toppling me over. (Man I bet my friends will get a kick out of that one). I also didn´t have to take any more shifts standing up, which is always a huge plus. Even the cops waved at us and celebrated. It was awesome. Never could happen in the states.

My second chiva ride of the weekend landed me in Ibarra on the way to Hosteria Tulquizan. Basically teachers are supposed to schedule one field trip for their class every cycle. As we are drawing near to the end of the fall cycle, I booked a trip for everyone to take a Sunday trip to Tulquizan. 13 dollars for chiva transportation there and back, horseback riding, swimming, lunch, zip lines, sports, fishing, and lounging around.

We all met at my school at 7:30 in the morning and were greeted my super chiva 2000. While our Quito chiva was sort of old and un painted, this one glowed with yellow on a glossy wooden finish. I think that Garrison Minnesota should scrap its RV show and enter into a Chiva show. These things rule.

The hosteria was cool. We took a chiva ride through a tunnel where we bumped along over the train tracks at 1 mile an hour. We emerged from the tunnel on a mountain with a cable leading down to the building. Every single person got to zip line from the tunnel to the hosteria over a river. The pool was fairly clean, the weather was hot, and I got to have second helping of lunch. Awesome times. Ally also showed me that she is a veteran horseback rider-knowledge completely unknown to me before we showed up.

I also, more importantly got a chance to talk to my students on a more personal level. One of the toughest things about being a teacher is your responsibility to wear different hats-teacher, role model, parent, friend, coach, mentor. Thus at school teachers face difficulties trying to be a friend, when their primary responsibility is to teach. Thus field trips are wonderful, because they really give you a chance to get to know your students in a different light.

I mentioned that I am reading a book my Dad gave me that describes the last 10 years of Ecuador´s history. I have about five pages left, and have found the book fairly interesting, so thus decided to ask my students about the past 10 years, which included 10 presidents, two near violent demonstrations, bank collapses, dollarization, near anarchy, unbelievable corruption, and an oil boom. Their descriptions are heart wrenching. Though things seem to be improving now from what I can see, the last 10 years were brutal for Ecuadorian citizens. My students answered my questions simply with statements like, ¨Things were absolutely miserably bad. You cannot even imagine.¨I hope I am helping them out on some level. These people have been through a lot.

I also got a chance to talk to my students about movies, books, TV, and everything else you talk about with your friends. They insinuated that there actually isn´t a whole lot to do in Ibarra. However, this January, our local soccer team is moving up to the highest soccer level. Thus we are going to get the nation´s best teams competing at our local stadium. A mere ten minute bus ride from my house.

Maybe I will get to take a chiva.

Body Art

What do you think of when you hear the phrase ¨body art?¨

My guess is that your answer probably lies somewhere in the ballpark of tattoos, SportsIllustrated´s painted ¨swimsuits¨, or maybe even childhood finger painting. Well my friends I seen and been blown away by a new type of body art.

Matadors. I´ll explain

When the bull pops out of the cage he is fired up with all the fury of Ferdinand getting stung by a bee. He runs around like a madman and chases after the first wave of tiny little Ecuadorian men. These men I might dub, ¨JV matadors.¨They have the cape that they wave at the bull, but it actually is colored pink. You don´t even have to tell me. The matadors ole with red- the color of passion, blood, and love, while the first wave of people ¨torrear¨ (Spanish verb to bait something) with pink, the color of flowers and bubble gum. Hence, thus, in conclusion ¨JV Matadors.¨

The junior varsity squad also possess little apparent bravery. They basically pop out one at a time from behind the 12, 3, 6, and 9 o´clock situated mini walls and get the bull to run around for a while. They also sprint behind the mini walls, and sometimes even jump the outer wall if the bull even sniffs in their direction. I mean even I wished that I had horns on my head so that I might stab these little peckers for their fear and jumping bean mentality. The words ¨spaz¨, ¨wuss,¨and ¨come on¨all came to mind. I guess they were just tiring the bull out or something, but if I was the bull I would just be getting madder by the second.

The next wave of people are the biggest sorry hams of all, but they actually look pretty cool. They are dressed in beautiful colored robes and are astride what look like war horses. Huge cloths are draped over the horses body, and their heads are covered with intricate masks. I believe that this wave of dudes was the ¨Picadors.¨The Picadors hold gigantic spears and they basically ride up to the bull and stab away. This aspect of the fight is certainly where the animal rights people are screaming their heads off. Because of the horse´s armor, and the Picador´s long spear and height advantage the bull has no chance. He tries to buck the horse and Picador to the best of his ability, but can´t get a good shot, and ends up just getting worked with the spear. At this point the lower neck and upper back of the bull also slowly start reddening with the bull´s blood. The jet black fur appears to sponge cool aid ever so slowly.

After the Picadors come the at first cool, but later wuss central wave of bull fighters. These guys hold what look peculiar objects the size of air traffic control cones covered with a colorful decoration that looks like structures outside old barber shops or on colorful christmas candy canes. However, inside the objects are barbed spears. Thus the guys sprint out into the middle of the ring and start jumping around trying to lure the bull. The bull then charges and the men hold up the air traffic control cones in both hands like they are Young Daniel Son waiting to administer the crow hop round house kick to win the karate tournment. However when the bull approaches, the men quickly dodge aside and thrust the cones into the bull´s neck. Because they are barbed they stick in the bull and give him the appearance of trailing covered braids from his head. After this amazing feat of athleticism the Daniel Son character sprints for bloody murder to the outer wall and dives behind it while the JV squad lure the bull away from his third tormenter.

Then you hear a blood curdling huzzah as the matador strides out holding his red cape and tiny stabbing sword. Aside from the tights and funny looking beret I would be one of these guys in a second. They are the James Bonds of Ecuador. They walk out into the middle of the ring to resounding cheers waving casually, but never once taking their eyes off the bull. Their eye lock also isn´t one of fear and caution, but one of intimidation and daring. Awesome. For some reason they place their sword underneath their cape and start their casual shimmering in anticipation of the bull´s charge. JV Squad stands behind the mini walls in case of emergency, but the Picadors and Daniel Sons are all safely tucked away out of the ring. It´s just man vs. beast mono y mono. Despite the advantage the matador has with all of the preemptive strikes and animal cruelty I must confess that I am loving the drama and the stand off. Picture a good old fashioned western shoot out, with Big Bad Bill dawning razor sharp knives, bulging muscles, and a jet black coat. Dashing Wyatt Earp only is protected by his agility, lightning fast reflexes, and single silver Colt 45 handgun. The matador waits every so patiently while the bull eyes his apparent victim. Then the bull charges.

Then the body art begins. Matadors move with the fluidity of water. Every part of their body seems to be connected perfectly with every other part. Their bodies never make unplanned movements, and every flinch, wave, or step looks to be part of an intricate electrical system. They almost glide. They first slowly shake their cape so that the ripples seem to move from one end of the cape to another. As the bull charges they wave the cape in front of them, to the sides, around their back, through their legs, as if they were handling a rippling waving basketball. As the bull speeds by, they flaunt their cape in front of his snarling face as close as possible, and only at the last second to they let the cape up and allow the bull to pass. Each time the bull passes the matador demonstrates an even greater fluid movement. Each pass is met with a resounding ¨OLE!¨from the capacity crowd.

Their were a couple of moves that really stood out for me. THe first was a beckoning from the matador from his right side and right hand. As the bull approached, the matador spun to his left and passed the cape to his left hand, right as the bull approached. Without even looking he casually lifted the cape, which was now behind his back, as the bull sped by, and finished with the cape in his left hand staring directly as the bull. Beautiful to watch. The second move that even got me out of my seat is when the matador shimmered his cape in front of the bull´s nose with his right hand, and slowly pet the bull´s back with his left hand, propelling the bull to circle him six times, only to let him out of the circle to a resounding ¨Ole.¨It was like spinning a string with a ball tied around it faster and faster in a circle, only to let it go and watch it shoot off in another direction. Awesome.

The first bull we saw was jet black, but not super lively. He was the victim of the around the circle move. The second bull was more of a gray color, that was awesome to see, because he gave the appearance of being a wild bull from the countryside. An untamed rogue finally brought in for his crimes. THe gray bull also was lively and pissed off. A great combination to witness the bull fight´s NASCAR crash. It really was amazing. The second matador we saw was waving his cape to his side, and tried to bring the cape in front of him, planning to sidestep his body at the last minute out of the way of the cape and bull. However, the gray bull was wise to his tricks and went right for the movement of his body, rather than the movement of the cape. BOOM. The bull planted his head right in the Matador´s gut and tossed him seven feet in the air to an echoing !Gasp! from the crowd. He crumpled to the ground as he came down from being tossed in the air. Luckily he managed to position himself between the bull´s horns to avoid being impaled, but he looked badly hurt.

YIPPPEEE! Here come the JV´ers! They all ran in jumping and screaming like madmen trying to lure the rogue bull away from the matador, and fortunately or unfortunately they succeeded. I was proud to see the matador shrug off the advances of the JV´ers trying to help him and he actually finished the bull flight slightly limping.

The end of the bull fight stinks. The bull is so out of breath, battered, and bloody, that he basically stops moving. Though people might tell you that matadors can finish the job with one blow, I certainly did not see that to be the case. The matador basically stabbed away at the bull right behind his skull while the JV´ers flanked the bull to set him up for the perfect shot. The first bull went down after three thrusts, while the second went down after four. Then some other JV´ers run up and cart the bull away.

The Ecuadorian I was sitting next to told me that there are exclusive clubs you can go to and eat the bulls killed during the fight. Sounds like a great sub plot for a Dan Brown book to me. The secret IllumalnowImgoingtoeatbull society that plagues Ecuador´s attempt to separate from Spanish culture´s influence.

Would I go again? Absolutely. I have to say. Being an athlete myself, I appreciated considerably the movements of the matador.

Is the fight fair? No. Which actually is lame. I would definitely rather see the matador face off one on one. I also feel a great respect for the bull in being placed in unwinnable circumstances and hope he finds peace after death.

Does that make me strange? Who knows. Find out for yourself. I dont care if you are Dr. Doolittle it´s worth going once just to have the cultural experience and see body art up close and personal.

There also are bull fights in Otevalo where Ecuadorians jump into the ring and play ¨bull soccer¨, where both teams try to lure the bull into another person´s goal.

Wish me luck.

Corrida Continued

Make sure you read the first entry on bull fights before this one.


Ally: Can we all share these seats together?
Lady: No dice.
Ally: Really?
Lady: Yup. Screw you gringos you are late and we were here first.
Ally: But here´s my ticket that says this seat is mine.
Lady: Screw you (grabbed the ticket and threw it away crumpled up)
Ally: Are you kidding me? (Ally is sick and tired of ecuadorians trying to take advantage of Gringos and thus decides to sit down in between lady and daughter)
Lady: (Booty shoves Ally over and daughter has to stand up)
Ally: (Booty shoves back)
Lady: (grabs Ally´s beer and spills it all over everyone then punches Ally in the face)
Ally: (Fist cocked ready to punch back)

And then all the men stepped in. I finally arrived, and the lady´s husband finally grabs her. Yup. I went to a bull fight and got treated to a cat fight for the price of admission. Everyone is furious that we are so late. We explain that we live in Ibarra and had to travel today because we are English teachers. The lady´s husband starts telling me that he only knows how to speak English because I am running my mouth in Spanish. I thus tell him that I only know how to speak French. He starts speaking in French so I told him fuck you and start to speak in Chinese. Languages and horrible words are flying everywhere. Ally is extremely pissed. I am extremely confused and annoyed. The fat lady is furious. And then the nice Ecuadorians finally stepped in.

They grab Ally and move between her and the other fat lady. No cops or police, but end of story. They give Ally a new beer and everyone goes to watch the bull fight with a chip on their shoulder. Ally thinks she should have punched the lady back. I tell her that she did the right thing. Long story short, it was a short incident, but a crazy one to say the least, and another confirmation of one of the biggest problems with Ecuadorians. They honestly think that they have a right to take advantage of gringos stricly hiding behind the language barrier. When that doesn´t work problems can easily arise, and luckily for us some of the nicest Ecuadorians we have met stepped in to avert a seious issue. God bless NASCAR, er the Bull Fight. I knew my analogy was correct.

Wow this entry on bull fights is going on way longer than I thought, and my bill is probably astronomical at this point. I am sure that no one is even still reading. If you are many thanks. Since I probably have carpal tunnel syndrome, I am going to stop for today. Stay tuned for the conclusion of the bull fight and an entry about chivas.

Cant believe I am going home in three weeks. Couldn´t be happier. Take care.

La Corrida de Totos

So in case you were wondering there is no such thing as a ¨pelea de toros¨in Ecuador. The correct word is corrida. Thus when I explained to my family that I was headed for a pelea de toros they thought I was out of my mind. The way that Ecuadorians take things literally when people try to speak fascinates me. For example I asked my host brother if he had received a hair cut, and apparently that does not translate, because if you received a hair cut that would mean that someone cut hair somewhere and then put it on your head. Thus a bull fight was actually a fight between two bulls, rather than a stand off between the matador and a snarling beast.

One quick thing about bull fights. They are vehemently opposed by the majority of the population. Saying that you went to a bull fight is the equivalent of saying that you love killing animals. I will never forget this one time my mom was wearing a vest with some fake hair inside and this crazy lady came up to us and started berating her. When she explained that is was fake, she continued to pop off like nothing had changed. That´s kind of how things roll here in Ecuador with bull fights. Even if you have never been in your life, going somehow signs you up in this cluster of people who are cruel to animals, but I could not pass up this opportunity.

This past week is Quito´s big festival. Thus the best matadors in the world travel to Quito to face off against the bulls. Most of them are from Spain, and there names and faces are plastered throughout Ecuador two weeks before the festival in excitement for the big event. Therefore, though I am absolutely burned out on riding Ecuador´s bus system, I bought another ticket to check out a bull fight.

Before I went I was under the impression that a bull fight is South America´s equivalent to NASCAR, and after seeing one, I am pretty sure that I hit the nail on the head. Basically everyone goes to see a great sporting event for one reason. In NASCAR people are in search of the most mind boggling, heart pounding, unbelievable car crash in the world. For bull fights people go to see a bull toss a matador around like a rag doll. Sure no one wants to see anybody die, and this is part of the thrill for NASCAR and bull fights. There is something so brave and daring about entering the devil´s mouth and walking out to tell about it. Sure you have both sports´art forms: picture perfect threading of a needle- either a textbook pass on the high side at the perfect moment, or a dazzling dance between man and bull-but let´s just call a spade a spade.

All the biggest and baddest bull fights in Quito are set at the Plaza de Toros in the northwest part of town. The first glance of outside of the edifice is stunning. My best explanation is that your history textbook just plopped a picture into the middle of a modern city. I got a similar feeling watching Ridley Scott´s Gladiator and seeing the Coliseum for the first time. The architecture of both buildings just puts you in your place as you feel the history of so many generations of people speed through your body. The circular stadium, flanked with keyhole looking doors, and an open air top, of the Plaza de Toros looms above city streets filled with buses, trolleys, and stop lights like a relic harkening citizens back to an earlier time.

In honor of the Festival of Quito the streets surrounding the Plaza are packed with people and places to buy beer. Ecuadorians take tailgaiting under their own special wing. Some open spaces are converted to make shift bars that shell out thirty ounce beers for a dollar each. Food vendors pack the streets selling off beer´s favorite companions: chips, peanuts, and other salty foods. A block east of the plaza stands the famous plaza restaurant where you can chow down on bull meat, including the native specialty bull penis soup, all you want before the big event. Given my choice I signed up for the beer and penuts, though maybe next time I will clobber red meat with the carnivores in the bull fight restaurant.

Inside the plaza is even more party central. Huge stages spew out live music, and every nook, corner, and cranny was supporting Ecuador´s cell phone company PORTA, the apparent sponsor of the day. Even inside beers were a dollar for gigantic cups. However, as we arived slightly late, which came into play big time a little later, we got to part of the recycling movement, as we grabbed used cups, washed em out to the best of our ability, and filled up with some delicious ice cold Pilsener.

If I haven´t mentioned Pilsener yet I might as well. Ecuador loves this beer, and my host father said that Spain has even started selling it to appease their inhabitants´ taste buds. It´s pretty standard fare party beer (think Coors Light), but they are served in gigantic bottles, and I have never tasted a beer that tastes better with salty foods. It´s also not miserable cold (probably for the watered down flavor), which is an enormous plus in a country where refrigeration is seldom acknowledged as a form for making beverages more deliicious. In fact eggs aren´t even refrigerated as they have no preservatives, which as mildly intimidating the first time I saw eggs sitting out on the counter top for weeks.

After feeling sufficiently tailgate certified to party in the plaza, we headed up to our seats. One of our friends had bought me my ticket earlier and had explained that in Ecuador the cheap seat tickets to bull fights are only five to seven dollars face value. However every single ticket is bought by scalpers on the morning of the bull fight, and sold for 10 to 15 dollars. Thus tickets in hand we headed for the door.

It looked basically like the entrance to a cave. Awesome. I could feel the clock being turned back to more barbaric times. As I ducked down into the aperture, my body was giddy with delight. One of my favorite feelings in the world is the first time you see a stadium in all its glory. After winding your way through the staircases and beer vendors, you finally walk out into the open air, see the grass\court\dirt\whatever, and say your introductions. The most awe inspiring feeling I have had to date is Fenway, because I was there during a playoff hunt, but Wrigley and Pacbell are close seconds. As I scampered up the seven flights of stairs to the nosebleed section, I couldn´t wait for my introduction to Quito´s Plaza de Toros.

I was not dissapointed. The mountains surrounding Cotopaxi surround the stadium basting the views with the dynamic green trees and jutting rocks of the Andes Mountains. The stadium itself is perfectly circular and each row of seats is basically one long bench that circles the entire structure. There are no staircases in the Plaza and thus three foot step ups from row to row are the only passage that allows you access to your seat if you are in the upper rows.

The ring is a perfect brown dirt circle, with one white chalk ring about six feet in from the edge of the ring. Set up at 12, 2, 6, and 9 o´clock in the ring are stone walls separted from the wall by one feet that stand four feet high. The walls themselves are probably six feet high and are covered with sponsorships and announcements, much like US stadiums.

The second thing you notice about the bull fights are the Panama Hats. Remeber them? I didn´t really think that Ecuadorians wore them in actuality until seeing the bull fight. EVERYONE and their mother´s mother brandishes their panama hat big time in honor of the bull fight. My host brother explained to me why. Apparently bull fights are basically social gatherings for Ecuador´s elites. Everyone dresses up Kentucky Derby style in sun dresses, leisure suits, and Panama hats to check out the bull fights. Half the people dont even watch the fight. They just chat it up with their perspective business partner, new boyfriend, or night´s hook up. Ecuador´s beautiful people are on public display for each other. Thus if you are still with me we now have a bull fight that is one part NASCAR and one part Kentuck Derby. Good mix? Not at all.

Remember how I said we were late? Thus when we arrived the stadium was packed with people all heavily sloshed and comfortable where they were. Thus as I chatted up the local Ecuadorians finding out how the fight was transpiring and where our seats were, Ally was climbing the rows doing the same thing. Ally, however, was walking quickly in the right direction and ended up arriving at our seats before I could catch up with her.

An enormous portley Ecuadorian lady had plastered hereself and her booty in our seats for the duration of the fight. Ally felt this wasn´t a good scenario, so here is a quick rundown of what transpired:

Actually I am going to go to the next entry because I have a feeling my computer might bail on me. Read On!