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.