Party in the USA

So I'm back. I wanted to write one last blog entry to close out my journey. I'm sure I'll look back upon these entries and attempt to feel what I was feeling then. I'm sure I'll look back, and learn for the rest of my life.

I got back into the US of A on Dec. 18....and I love it. I wish I missed Ecuador. I wish it was hard to leave. I wish I was excited to continue to speak Spanish here, but I'm not.

I love America. I love English. I love conversations over coffee or beer (or coffee beer, thanks McCoy's). I love knowing what's going on. I love being comfortable. I know there is value in being uncomfortable, but for now, I'm back with family and friends.

I know I changed. I know that I won't really know all that the Lord has accomplished in me for quite some time, and I may never figure it out. I find myself with fewer words than before. Appreciating silence more, and not feeling that I have to carry a conversation. There's part of me that has realized that there are so many things that can develop if I just let them.

I knew coming back that people would want to know about my trip and when people ask me about my time I only have one word: Hard. It was hard learning the language, it was hard being uncomfortable, it was a hard experience. However, I never regretted my decision to go. I never said to myself that I made a bad decision. I knew that I was searching for adventure, and I found it in Ecuador.

Donald Miller wrote a book called, 'Through Painted Deserts' about his journey from Texas to Oregon. This is a quote that gives some purpose to my adventure:

"Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons."

I love being back.

Two...Three...Five

This is a blog long overdue. Where to start...

So I have a friend named Lenin. I met Lenin at the Prayer Breakfast in Washington, D.C. and really connected with him. He was the 5th person that I met from Ecuador and lived at Casa Victoria, and was the 'straw that broke the camel's back' to get me down here. 5th time's the charm I guess.

Anyway, Lenin is from a really small village called 235. It is called that because it is 235 kilometers from the coast and there's a railroad track that goes through it. The name is simple, much like the lifestyle and the people. For any of you that have been on the Mizzou mission trips to Jamaica, this place is just like that.

I went out there with Lenin a few weeks ago and it was going to be a surprise birthday party for his mom. We successfully distracted her in a neighboring town while Lenin's 8 other brothers and sisters made their way to the house to set up. We made our way back and it was fantastic. Tons of food, two dudes popped out of the kitchen with guitars singing happy birthday in spanish, you got the lady who's already drunk prancing around yelling out happy birthday at the most random times. It was awesome.

This party was a little different than many of the parties I have ever been to. We're in a small house (really small...like a house made for ants...i jacked my head several times), concrete floor, and several

people of all ages sitting around telling jokes. There are two guys walking around passing out home made moonshine and Pilsener beer...and everyone's drinking, even Grandma. As the night progressed the guitarists started working again and people started to dance. Thanks to the drunk guy who made it interesting. We gave him a little device that was used to pump balloons as a microphone. He was dancing around, grabbing all the girls to dance

with him.

We danced. We drank. We celebrated the life of an amazing woman.

I started to think about the lives of these people. They just got running water 1o years ago. They're a farming people who live off the land. Their stresses are different than my stresses, and they probably have a lot less. The go to bed every night and wake up every morning with the sound of the raging river below. There's honesty, there's trust, there's

no crime. People look out for eachother and yes, most of them are related. The air is some of the purest air in Ecuador and they are in the mountains. They're separated from 'the real world,' from traffic, from technology. Many people there don't have cars, have never driven, and have never flown in airplanes. Even Lenin's mom is afraid of them because she says, 'they take my babies away!' It's a different life, one that seems more pure, and I was honored to be a part of it.

This is Lenin's Dad repeating a few phrases that we taught him in English. He's the man. It brings a smile to my face every time I watch it.

3 moments in Time

It might be too soon to start thinking back and picking out some great moments, but I wanted to share 3 moments that have stuck with me. I knew that I would eventually write about them, so I'm choosing now to do that.

The first, and these really aren't in any particular order, is a conversation I had with this guy named Bill. Bill is married to the librarian down here and is the only other gringo besides me in this neighborhood. He hails from Michigan and smokes like crazy, but apparently he's calmed down a bit. Anyway we were outside the house and we were talking about the weekend. About 8 people came down from the States and hung out with us for a weekend in the middle of October. Most of them were from a church called Ocean Hills in Santa Barabara, CA and we spent the weekend at a cool, little retreat center. They had been coming down to Quito for the past 6 years and Bill met them for the first time last year. During a conversation he was asked what he missed most about the States. He quickly answered: Mountain Dew, Cheez Wiz, and Spaghettio's with Meatballs. Apparently the questioner kept this in mind and in his next visit the following year, he showed up with Cheez Wiz and Spaghettio's with Meatballs. He was afraid to pack the Mountain Dew because he thought it would explode, but nonetheless it left quite the impression on Bill. During his second cigarette he exclaimed to me his appreciation. "I mean, the dude brought me Cheez Wiz...that's fucking love!'

The second was an event that happened a few weeks ago. A friend and fellow volunteer Mateo Ponce wanted to start a Bible Study every Wednesday night. We would alternate between going to his house and Casa Victoria and each person would share a thought or two from the Bible. During this particular Bible Study we had 4 guests from Peru. They were husband and wife pastors that Javier had met on his journey there in September. There were 12 of us gathered around the dining room table, with coffee, tea, and cheese with bread in front of us and a raging, warming fire behind us. One pastor shared his thoughts from the book of John and we were all discussing it. Jose Luis, one of the founders of the house, was also in attendance. The conversation shifted a little bit to Casa Victoria and he said something that has stuck with me: "Look at all of us that are gathered here tonight. We have representatives from Colombia, Peru, Ecuador and the United States. We have people of all different skin color. We all represent different societal classes from small villages in the Andes mountains to the son of the Mister of Defense. But we are all here, gathered together, talking about Jesus. To me, this represents Casa Victoria." I was proud to be a part of that.

The last was when the weather started to change in the first weeks of October. My body wasn't quite ready for that and I got a little sick. I lost my voice for a day, I was coughing like crazy, and had all kinds of congestion. It was right when these little Bible Studies that I mentioned previously were beginning. At the end of one of them I asked Javier to pray for me. I asked him to pray for my health as well as my Spanish as it was kind of a double wammy for me. I'm sick and I can't explain what's wrong with me without acting it out. He said of course he would do it, and we made our way back to the house. As soon as I arrived I headed straight for my bed as I was exhausted and needing sleep. As I layed down Javy came in my room and told me that I should wear a scarf; that it would help with my sickness. I told him that I didn't have one and didn't really believe his old wive's tale, but he proceeded to take his scarf and give it to me. This was significant because Javier sleeps with a stocking cap and this scarf every night. He was giving to me, a sick roommate who he barely knows, and putting himself out for the night. I accepted his generous offer and it wasn't but 5 min. before I was halfway to dream land. I did notice, however, that Javy had made his way over to my bed and was praying for me. I couldn't really understand it all, but in my semi-comatose state I just felt better. The dude had given me something that was big for him and kept his word. Javy is a good friend.

Talent Show at Casa Victoria

There are plenty of things to write about, but I'm in one of those moods right now that wants to summarize what just happened.

This afternoon we had the kids perform a little talent show. It was called, 'Ninas Bonitas,' which translates to Pretty little girls. There were 20 ninas in this talent show and it was something else. We had parents, judges, even a DJ. Because of my incredible math skills I was given the responsibilty of tallying up the scores from the judges and dividing to find the median. It required my full attention.

There were going to be two rounds. The first was going to be the girls walking down the 'stage' to Carolina, the director here, to introduce themselves. The judges would base them on their walk, articulation, and overall confidence. We went through the 20 little girls that range from 5 - 12 years old starting with the youngest who generally don't posses any fear of the situation to the older, slightly more self-conscious children. For the most part, everything went well and we were off to the second part of the show: talent.

Most of the little girls decided that their talent was going to be 'modeling.' So they would strut their stuff, do a little twirl, and make their way back. One girl blew a little kiss to the judges when she finished. Classic. As the ages and the afternoon matured, so did the acts. Some girls sang and some girls danced. One little girl...oh man this broke my heart...her talent was dancing. She was all decked out in her little white dress and white gloves and made her way to the middle of the room. A popular hip hop song came on and she started to dance...then it happened...she froze. She froze and then started weeping. Ssssoooo intense. The director jumped in dancing trying to salvage it, but it was too late. She was carried off the stage, and the show continued. When the girls finished their talent a boy of roughly the same age was announced and he escorted her off the stage. After two rounds were completed, my job kicked up a little bit as I tallied up the scores and picked the 4 finalists. (Needless to say the girl who bawled didn't make it...too soon)?

All the contestants were gathered together and the 4 names were called. That was kind of intense because some girls acted like girls and the water works came on. The final act was answering a question: what do you want to be when you grow up? They all followed the first girl's lead and said that they wanted to be a doctor. However, when asked why some answered quicker than others and had different reasons. Then it was it...the time to announce who would be Miss Nina Bonita. The 4 finalists were gathered together and each name was called. The first girl accepted her 4th place prize of a stuffed animal and walked off in triumph. It wasn't first, but she would take it. The 3rd place girl was called and she was presented with her teddy bear gift. During the presentation she cried and sombered out of the room. The second and first place names were called without the shedding of tears and the act was over. The first place winner hugged everyone and that it was it. The first annual Miss Nina Bonita had completed.

I have some mixed thoughts on this idea, but the most part I feel pretty positive about it. The equivalent of the power of a Father telling his Son that he's proud of him is a girl being told that she's beautiful. Even though there was one winner (she dominated too...it wasn't even close), I thought it was good for these little girls to dress up and perform. They practiced public speaking, they walked in front a crowd as their beauty was praised, they even performed which is a very scary thing; I was even nervous and I was just the guy with the calculator. I thought it was good for the little boys to escort the women from the spot light. Showing respect for a woman and serving her is something that I hope sticks with these equally impoverished young men.

Even though every girl wanted to win; I still feel that it was good to have a little competition. The girl who won did it with class and it was repeated several times that were all incredible, beautiful, and brave.

San Roque, the neighborhood where Casa Victoria is located, is filled with single mothers, drug addictics, alcoholics, and violence. So I think a chance to take a break from that is always beneficial. This was rare moment that these children experienced. I don't know if anyone has ever told them they were beautiful or were asked to perform. These girls were in the spot light, and if even for a few seconds it exposed them to something great. Something from a world that we were meant to live in. I like to say that I think Casa Victoria is a light in an otherwise dark place and today, we shone like the sun.

Feeling

Here’s to technology. Here’s to making something that might have been too personal for me to talk about, but now I can post on a blog and not feel embarrassment because I can’t see anyone’s faces.

Earlier tonight I spent some time with the Lord. I’ll be honest; I resisted in the beginning. I felt the Lord calling me, but I had just bought the 11^th season of ‘The Simpsons’ and wanted to watch that. Finally I gave in and starting reading Jesus of Nazareth by the current Pope Joseph Ratzinger. It is usually during times where I am reading about Jesus that He speaks to me beneath the text; kind of a sub conversation. It was during this time that I stated to have some pretty intense thoughts.

‘That which solidifies dreams into reality is feeling.’ That’s what I started with. I had these wild ideas of traveling the world, and hoping to change it. However, during these wild dreams I started to think about my time here in Ecuador. I'm already traveling. Why take away from my time here by thinking about some future trip? It’s a dangerous thing to live in the future, or even the past. It can take us out of reality, and that’s when feeling entered. I started to think of the kids here. When I’m playing with the kids I’m not thinking of great philosophical ideas or future trips; I’m just here. I’m feeling the moment. I'm feeling reality.

Ironically, a few moments later my thoughts jumped back to my plans for a future adventure. When I return I plan on taking a trip around the States. It was something that started off as a dream when performing the monotonous task of painting the halls of Casa Victoria. However, this dream has seemed to stick and I am working out the itinerary of this adventure with my friend Justin Paton. I was all pumped about this and shared it with my parents. “What about a job?’ Those were the first words out of my father’s mouth. I know my dad only wants what’s best for me and I thank him for being the voice of reason, but there was a piece of me that really hurt. A piece of me that saw myself going back into the working world and feeling that too familiar boredom; boredom with life, or rather, not living life. It’s a tough balance; living in this world but wanting what’s in another. The balance between that which is necessary and that which is, well, a dream.

I meditated on this balance as the sun was setting over the busy landscape of Ecuador’s capital. I wanted a better look. I wanted to soak it in, but the door leading to the deck off the living room was locked. I took it as a sign for me to head to higher ground. I was careful making my way knowing that my moment with the Lord was fragile. When reaching the top of Casa Victoria the roof blocked my view. ‘Well, time to climb on top of the roof.’ I’m sure there’s a rule about not doing that, but I made a quick hop and started climbing. I got excited. I felt like I was about to experiene something great and powerful. ‘Lord,’ I thought, ‘am I about to fall in love with this city?’ About half way up I heard my name called over and over again. ‘Well, there it goes,’ I thought, ‘my moment with the Lord was gone.’ But I was wrong. Across the street is a small apartment building with about 15 kids living in it. On the roof of their building, which is actually made for people to be on, were 6 kids: Maria, Natali, Erick, Widinson, Liseth and Johann. They all called my name and I took a seat and waved at them. They started yelling in Spanish and I only understood a little of what they said, but the point wasn’t conversation. They just yelled my name and wanted me to wave. They did that quite a bit… They played and I watched.

I thought my moment with the Lord was going to be beholding His great and powerful creation of the sunset. It would have led to more deep thoughts and dreams for the future once again taking me to a different place. However, He presented me with a different great and powerful creation that yanked me back into the present. It was the same thought that interrupted my dreaming process earlier. I wanted to look upon the bursts of orange, red, purple and blue painted across the sky, but instead I looked upon about something greater. And I felt something greater too. I felt the love of children. I felt the present. I felt reality.

Not in the States...

There are many traditions that not celebrated here in Ecuador. For example, Halloween is not big, no Thanksgiving (probably could have guessed that one), Christmas is huge. I’ve been staring at a Christmas tree and passing by Christmas decorations since the middle of October. However that's not the holiday I want to talk about. I'm talking about a little something called ‘Day of the Dead.’

I’ve mentioned my roommate Javier a few times in the past. He’s one of my favorite roommates and brings a lot of peace, love, and knowledge about the Lord. He also speaks slow so I can understand a lot of what he’s saying. He’s from a little village called Guantalo in the Andes Mountains. This was our destination for Nov. 1-3.

5 of us piled into the standard transportation for trips like this, Mateo’s car, and off we went. We were in the car for about 2 hours before we hit the actual mountain, then it was just man-terrain rocky road after that. We passed the beautiful landscape and the occasional sheep or cow header. After 2 more hours we finally arrived. It was funny because we’re on this mountain road, there’s no signs, everything looks the same, and then BOOM…you’re there. That was the first of many times that I smiled and thought to myself, ‘you wouldn’t find this in the States.’

We ate dinner at Javier’s sister's house. The whole idea of someone living in the middle of nowhere takes on a different meaning when you’re in a mountain village in a third world country. We couldn’t quite get all the way there and stopped at a cow pasture at dusk. We did our best not to step in cow, donkey, or sheep crap and then we made it. In the main room was a giant table filled with all kinds of food, but there was something a little different. On one of the corners there was a little Ecuadorian delicacy: cui (guinea pig). It was nice and charred and missing the head. ‘Huh,’ I thought, ‘you wouldn’t find that in the States.’

You would find rooms with electricity in the States, but not here. Here’s to candlelit dinners eating my first guinea pig. Here’s also to the kids who didn’t quite get the idea that you shouldn’t bump the table with one candle, and to the kids who cough all over the food. Then they grab a piece of cheese, take a bite, and put it back. When Javier’s sister told me how great the cheese was and passed me the bowl; I had to lie. I said I didn’t like cheese….I felt terrible afterwards, but it was a matter of health. When we were leaving we were informed that Mateo’s car was the first car to ever make it that close to her house. The first car…it’s 2009.

After the one of a kind meal we made our way back to Javier’s cousin who was hosting us that night. We were greeted with a little homemade moonshine. I always think my Spanish is better after I’ve been drinking; I’m sure it’s not. Mateo and myself took several shots with the locals before stumbling upstairs to our beds. I fell asleep under 4 blankets and a bed as hard as the liquor I had just drank. I woke up at 4:30 a.m. freezing. Where the hell am I? I toughed it out until about 8, got up, and met a little Ecadorian kid with a high voice. Turns out he’s some of kind of star singer down here. We made our way to the outhouse, washed up a little bit in the local well, ate some berries off of a tree, and hopped a fence to get to the backyard….and by backyard I mean cow pasture. Javier’s cousin was doing the morning milking for breakfast. I was able to warm up in the sun and then it was back inside for breakfast: rice (always), chicken, and coffee with freshly ‘squeezed’ milk. Here’s the thing though; I’m drinking this milk and I come across something a little chewy, a little something that you wouldn’t find in your average milk in the States: skin. Apparently this is common of fresh milk, but I didn't see it coming. I spit it out, did a little head nod with a smile, and finished my meal.

We played soccer the rest of the day and attended Mass in the local cemetery. I slept better that night. Maybe it was because I doubled the amount of blankets from the night before and I was exhausted from chasing around 13 year olds who dominate in soccer.

The last day we went to a place where I was happy to say that I wouldn’t find in the States. It’s a place called Quilotoa, and it’s a crater filled with rain water. It was beautiful. We hiked down to the lake itself which took about 30 min. downhill. When we arrived we all jumped into the lake which had to be a few degrees above freezing. I didn’t last long. Afterwards we made the long trek up which took all the energy I had. We made our way to Mateo’s car for the final trip home, but this time we were plus 2 more. 7 people, 4 hours, bumpy, windy roads…rough.

Although there were several things about this trip that were a bit different, it was probably the best weekend of my time down here. The people were loving and hospitable and the experience memorable. I’m glad I was able to experience the moments where I would smile and realize I’m not in the States, and finally, experience my best Day of the Dead.

Our Trip to Hacienda de Mateo...truly beautiful

Mateo is a great friend because the dude loves to travel. He's the only one of my friends down here that has a car, and it is great. So, this past weekend we made our way to his farm way out in the country that's like 4 hours away from Quito.

The place was truly beautiful. We saw beautiful landscapes, incredible plant life, and had a little fun with the Andes mountains. I had a great time with my friends and we just relaxed.

Probably the highlight of the trip came right at the beginning. As we arrive Mateo starts looking around for this type of juice. It supposedly tastes like honey juice, but it comes from a plant instead of bees. He starts asking all these Indigenous people and finally asking about 15 people we find Rosa.Rosa is a nice elderly woman who told us she had this juice. We gave her a ride to her house, she introduces us to her husband Victor, and makes her way into a field. She sets up next to this plant that looks like a funny cactus and starts taking out this liquid from the root. She offers us a little cup of it, and I was like, 'alright, this is something different. I could be into this.' I try it and Mateo was right, it tasted just like honey juice.

The reason this was the highlight because it was about people. It was real. On the way to the farm and even throughout the weekend we saw all kinds of incredible landscapes, but I just felt like there was something missing. Meeting Rosa and Victor seemed to make it for me. I mean these people never see white people. They are in the middle of the Ecuadorian

country. There's no T.V., no internet, and they've been living in that surrounding area their entire lives. I just felt like I experienced something that most people never will, because it's not something that you can look up on Google. It's relationship.