Happy Birthday Kane!
Remember when you read those stories in middle school about how all classes used to be in the same room and teachers had to go around teaching like ten grade levels at once? Well I got to stare that reality in the face while "conocering" (spanish word for getting to know) the community schools of INTAG.
Some teachers do a phenomenal job of dividing up the classes. They use strategically placed whiteboards, NASA designed desk arrangements, and unreal maximization of space techniques to create a classroom that almost feels like each grade level has a small degree of privacy. I imagine that it's pretty much the same strategy that gave light (dar luz in Spanish means to give birth) to cubicles. Though you are a room with a thousand other people, somehow you feel like maybe you could crawl under your desk for a quick whatever you feel the need to do.
Other classrooms are painfully non conducive to learning. The children sit in a room and quasi-patiently wait their turn for the teacher to finish teaching the other eight grade levels in the classroom. Sometimes you just can't believe the reality that some people face without ever knowing that things are different in other places. I just hope that sending volunteers to these far off places will eventually lead to a better style of life.
Besides checking out schools, my main job was making a good impression on the United States of America and WorldTeach in general. It's funny how easy it is to please middle aged Ecuadorian women. All you really have to do is just eat anything and everything in site-a skill that I could easily win medals for. That Japanese hot dog guy can put away six billion franks in five minutes, but I can shovel stomach linings, intestines, and guinea pigs without so much as a grimace or wince. After Ecuador I feel like I could waltz through Fear Factor. What's that? Fish eyes? Oh I use that to brush my teeth!
Anyway this skill makes it extremely easy to make friends in small communities. However, this skill came back to bite me in the booty on my last day in INTAG. I went to bed on May 9th (May 10th is my dar-la-luz day), happy to have made a good impression on America, but slightly worried about the strange growth that had been beckoning me from the top of a corn kernel earlier at dinner. I was exhausted, but crossed my fingers hoping for the best on May 10th.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANE! My first memory of my 25th birthday is waking up at 4AM with knots in my stomach that would make Boy Scout Masters shake their heads in disgust. I believe the phrase my cousin and I use as we stared at a wonderful rat's nest of fishing line was, "Uh dude, MAJOR tangle." Since I had danced with the bichos at an earlier date (see previous entry) I knew what I was in for-hours and hours of no sleep, or a quick trigger pulling session.
However, I was still acting in my role as representative of all that is white and USA, so I knew that couldn't just dip my head into the family toilet, as I would basically show that I was an ungrateful jerk. Then I remembered something that looked like an outhouse outside. I crossed my fingers, did that weird cross your legs you do to contain fury, and waddle-ran outside. I couldn't close the front door behind me in my haste, but I was intent on reaching uncovering the secrets of the small shed that lay a mere 20 feet away.
I could have fainted in joy at the site of a porcelain throne in the shed. A nice two second relief that was immediately replaced with dismay as I opened up that fateful lid to see a wonderful medley of the family I was staying with's spare cargo. Uh oh. I opened up the top shelf to confirm my bad luck. No water. Damn it.
So I started hiking. I walked about a quarter mile away from the house, hoping that I was far enough away that nobody would hear me. I found a wonderful toilet bowl shaped puddle and released my birthday-eve dinner.
Feeling mildly satisfied, I walked back to the house where I was staying ready to try to get a few more hours of sleep before meeting the director of education for the parroquia of Penaherrera, Ecaudor.
Sweet. The door was locked. Where's the candid camera?
Cold, annoyed, and exhausted, I tried sleeping on the ground outside the house. No dice. I tried urging the family dog to let me use him as a pillow. No dice. I tried walking around, but almost passed out. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
I finally got Renano's (nine year old son's) attention by throwing pieces of dirt near his window. He came out and apologized for locking the door. Apparently he though he heard some noises, noticed the door was open, and got up and locked it. Good kid. Asked me what I was doing outside. Told him I couldn't sleep. Asked me why. Told him I didn't know. Didn't mention hearing my hurling. Que viva.
I plunked down on the bed, that smelled like moldy old socks, and was asleep by 6AM. One more hour of sleep before I had to get up to meet the director.
When I woke up I had a slight moment of hope when I thought that last night's festivities could have been a mere dream. Then my stomach bubbled like an office water cooler and I winced. Bummer. At least I knew that I would be home to my new apartment that evening. At least I knew there was an out.
That's when the big bomb dropped. The people I was staying with casually informed me that the bus service from Penaherrera would not longer be running that day due to the lack of water or something. Not good for old Kane. Not only would I be spending my 25th with a bubbling stomach, but also with a bunch of people I didn't know, in a place where every bite of food had the potential to hold the deadly bichos. Awesome.
Bitter, upset, and grumpy, I stumbled down to the Colegio to chat with the director of the school. Of course he was gone doing some sort of top secret mission paramount for Ecaudorian security, Operation IDontFeelLikeGoingToWorkToday. Thus I chatted with the school secretary and random professors, hoping to gain some concrete information. The secretary turned out to be particularly nice, and thus I casually threw in that I was hoping to get out of INTAG that day. I knew that the bus from Penaherrera was not happening, but I crossed my fingers that she might know another way.
EU-bloody-REKA!! Apparently there was a town about 8 KM outside of Penaherrera that would be running a 2:00 bus out of INTAG. The bubbles in my stomach literally elevated me out of my chair. I checked clock on my Sin Servicio cell phone. 10:30. I had a chance. HOPE. I might not have to spend my birthday in the middle of nowhere.
I quickly grabbed my bags, said my goodbyes, and threw as many business cards (that's right I have business cards now) at as many townspeople as possible. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for your hospitality. Yes I would love to stay, but I just have to go. By the way, can I use your bathroom real quick before I go?
The first image that swept through my mind as I took the first step on what would be one of the longest walks of my life was that of Roland, from Steven King's Dark Tower Series, setting out when he was racked with the poison from the Lobstrocities. The sun beat down on my face like a slow dull club, seemingly transforming the bubbling in my stomach to boiling. I did that weird dance with my suitcase that you do with just heavy enough items. My bag carrying cycle included not only all of the normal routines (on one shoulder messenger bag, two straps for backpack style, the grocery bag carry), but also some unconventional ones (the baby cradling touch my bag and I will kill you and the strap on the forehead I am a pack animal styles). The road I traveled on was filled with more divots, crevices, and snipers than Jaime Escalante's skin complexion. I inevitably sprained my ankle. One car passed me heading back to Penaherrera.
After two and half hours I finally reached the town of Apuela. I thought about going to the bathroom, but was too petrified that I would miss the bus while on the can. I felt like sleeping, but faced similar problems.
After what seemed like eternity my bus showed up. Relief washed over in a euphoric blitz. I had a slight notion of panic that I might not get window seat-but sometimes good things come to those who wait, as the person who was sitting next to me inexplicably got off. I traveled the 8 hour bus ride back to my apartment in Quito sick, but content. I was going home.
Some teachers do a phenomenal job of dividing up the classes. They use strategically placed whiteboards, NASA designed desk arrangements, and unreal maximization of space techniques to create a classroom that almost feels like each grade level has a small degree of privacy. I imagine that it's pretty much the same strategy that gave light (dar luz in Spanish means to give birth) to cubicles. Though you are a room with a thousand other people, somehow you feel like maybe you could crawl under your desk for a quick whatever you feel the need to do.
Other classrooms are painfully non conducive to learning. The children sit in a room and quasi-patiently wait their turn for the teacher to finish teaching the other eight grade levels in the classroom. Sometimes you just can't believe the reality that some people face without ever knowing that things are different in other places. I just hope that sending volunteers to these far off places will eventually lead to a better style of life.
Besides checking out schools, my main job was making a good impression on the United States of America and WorldTeach in general. It's funny how easy it is to please middle aged Ecuadorian women. All you really have to do is just eat anything and everything in site-a skill that I could easily win medals for. That Japanese hot dog guy can put away six billion franks in five minutes, but I can shovel stomach linings, intestines, and guinea pigs without so much as a grimace or wince. After Ecuador I feel like I could waltz through Fear Factor. What's that? Fish eyes? Oh I use that to brush my teeth!
Anyway this skill makes it extremely easy to make friends in small communities. However, this skill came back to bite me in the booty on my last day in INTAG. I went to bed on May 9th (May 10th is my dar-la-luz day), happy to have made a good impression on America, but slightly worried about the strange growth that had been beckoning me from the top of a corn kernel earlier at dinner. I was exhausted, but crossed my fingers hoping for the best on May 10th.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANE! My first memory of my 25th birthday is waking up at 4AM with knots in my stomach that would make Boy Scout Masters shake their heads in disgust. I believe the phrase my cousin and I use as we stared at a wonderful rat's nest of fishing line was, "Uh dude, MAJOR tangle." Since I had danced with the bichos at an earlier date (see previous entry) I knew what I was in for-hours and hours of no sleep, or a quick trigger pulling session.
However, I was still acting in my role as representative of all that is white and USA, so I knew that couldn't just dip my head into the family toilet, as I would basically show that I was an ungrateful jerk. Then I remembered something that looked like an outhouse outside. I crossed my fingers, did that weird cross your legs you do to contain fury, and waddle-ran outside. I couldn't close the front door behind me in my haste, but I was intent on reaching uncovering the secrets of the small shed that lay a mere 20 feet away.
I could have fainted in joy at the site of a porcelain throne in the shed. A nice two second relief that was immediately replaced with dismay as I opened up that fateful lid to see a wonderful medley of the family I was staying with's spare cargo. Uh oh. I opened up the top shelf to confirm my bad luck. No water. Damn it.
So I started hiking. I walked about a quarter mile away from the house, hoping that I was far enough away that nobody would hear me. I found a wonderful toilet bowl shaped puddle and released my birthday-eve dinner.
Feeling mildly satisfied, I walked back to the house where I was staying ready to try to get a few more hours of sleep before meeting the director of education for the parroquia of Penaherrera, Ecaudor.
Sweet. The door was locked. Where's the candid camera?
Cold, annoyed, and exhausted, I tried sleeping on the ground outside the house. No dice. I tried urging the family dog to let me use him as a pillow. No dice. I tried walking around, but almost passed out. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
I finally got Renano's (nine year old son's) attention by throwing pieces of dirt near his window. He came out and apologized for locking the door. Apparently he though he heard some noises, noticed the door was open, and got up and locked it. Good kid. Asked me what I was doing outside. Told him I couldn't sleep. Asked me why. Told him I didn't know. Didn't mention hearing my hurling. Que viva.
I plunked down on the bed, that smelled like moldy old socks, and was asleep by 6AM. One more hour of sleep before I had to get up to meet the director.
When I woke up I had a slight moment of hope when I thought that last night's festivities could have been a mere dream. Then my stomach bubbled like an office water cooler and I winced. Bummer. At least I knew that I would be home to my new apartment that evening. At least I knew there was an out.
That's when the big bomb dropped. The people I was staying with casually informed me that the bus service from Penaherrera would not longer be running that day due to the lack of water or something. Not good for old Kane. Not only would I be spending my 25th with a bubbling stomach, but also with a bunch of people I didn't know, in a place where every bite of food had the potential to hold the deadly bichos. Awesome.
Bitter, upset, and grumpy, I stumbled down to the Colegio to chat with the director of the school. Of course he was gone doing some sort of top secret mission paramount for Ecaudorian security, Operation IDontFeelLikeGoingToWorkToday. Thus I chatted with the school secretary and random professors, hoping to gain some concrete information. The secretary turned out to be particularly nice, and thus I casually threw in that I was hoping to get out of INTAG that day. I knew that the bus from Penaherrera was not happening, but I crossed my fingers that she might know another way.
EU-bloody-REKA!! Apparently there was a town about 8 KM outside of Penaherrera that would be running a 2:00 bus out of INTAG. The bubbles in my stomach literally elevated me out of my chair. I checked clock on my Sin Servicio cell phone. 10:30. I had a chance. HOPE. I might not have to spend my birthday in the middle of nowhere.
I quickly grabbed my bags, said my goodbyes, and threw as many business cards (that's right I have business cards now) at as many townspeople as possible. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for your hospitality. Yes I would love to stay, but I just have to go. By the way, can I use your bathroom real quick before I go?
The first image that swept through my mind as I took the first step on what would be one of the longest walks of my life was that of Roland, from Steven King's Dark Tower Series, setting out when he was racked with the poison from the Lobstrocities. The sun beat down on my face like a slow dull club, seemingly transforming the bubbling in my stomach to boiling. I did that weird dance with my suitcase that you do with just heavy enough items. My bag carrying cycle included not only all of the normal routines (on one shoulder messenger bag, two straps for backpack style, the grocery bag carry), but also some unconventional ones (the baby cradling touch my bag and I will kill you and the strap on the forehead I am a pack animal styles). The road I traveled on was filled with more divots, crevices, and snipers than Jaime Escalante's skin complexion. I inevitably sprained my ankle. One car passed me heading back to Penaherrera.
After two and half hours I finally reached the town of Apuela. I thought about going to the bathroom, but was too petrified that I would miss the bus while on the can. I felt like sleeping, but faced similar problems.
After what seemed like eternity my bus showed up. Relief washed over in a euphoric blitz. I had a slight notion of panic that I might not get window seat-but sometimes good things come to those who wait, as the person who was sitting next to me inexplicably got off. I traveled the 8 hour bus ride back to my apartment in Quito sick, but content. I was going home.
posted by ecuadortraveler at 11:08 AM
3 Comments:
Dude, the story telling ability we're dealing with here is off the charts. I've worked 8 hours of construction in the 100 degree Virginia sun in similar straits, and I feel for you. Youtheman.
Thanks again for the call. It did my soul well.
Intense, dude. Glad you made it out with your wits and your bowels intact.
Oh, and we'll take Zito back if you throw in Lincecum or Cain.
Happy birthday, dude!
Donny-Whattup kid. Thanks for hollering this weekend. Youtheman.
Dgr-You stud. Hope you are well bro . Miss all you fellas back home. Say what up to the new SFO pledge Radebaugh. I think he deserves some initiating.
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