Our Trip to Papallacta...truly beautiful

Last weekend, Alex, Oscar, Mateo and myself embarked on a little adventure. Mateo Ponce is a friend that loves to travel, and he had this spot picked out. We left on a Sat. afternoon and I knew it was going to be a good trip because right when we left there was a rainbow...a little sign that God wanted to us to go...at least that's how I interpreted it.

The roads were windy, curvy and full of Ecuadorian life. I took a lot of pictures, but only a few turned out alright.

After two hours of listening to Ecuadorian music, watching Mateo snap along to the South American beat, we arrived at Papallacta. Papallacta for those who don't know, and I'm assuming it's a vast majority, is a resort known for its natural hot springs. The water is heated by near by volcanoes and then cold water is mixed in to control the temperature. It truly is a beautiful place. It was here that I experienced a little bit of my first comfort down here. I'm not sure if it was the hot water (though I'm 98% sure that it was), but I just felt better. There's just something about relaxing in a hot pool that just makes you feel great.

The highlight of the trip

There are several pools at this little resort with varying temperatures. There is a river that runs by the resort that is made of mostly melted snow from the Andes mountains. Some genius decided to fill up a small pool with this icy water. I'm not sure if it's a tradition of what, but Mateo just said the words (good thing he speaks both English and Spanish) and all 4 of us were standing outside of this 40 degree water. There was a moment of hesitation, one of those, 'Really? Do I really want to do this?' But after seeing Alex and Oscar jump in I didn't really have much of a choice. I jumped in and my body screamed at me about how bad of an idea that was. I quickly jumped out and hopped back into the 110 degree water...which wasn't the best idea either. I was cussing like crazy, and so was Mateo, but Mateo caught a little something that he shared with me a little later. During this highlight, I was cussing in Spanish and this native Ecuadorian was cussing in English. "Beautiful," he said with his Latin American accent, "Truly beautiful."

These Ecuadorians love their Marcos Witt

I'm sorry for not writing more blogs. My intial fear in having a blog, and even a computer, was that I would be on this thing all the time; that I wouldn't really be living in the moment. So that's why I've been a little MIA. But now, I would like to tell a story:

Last Tues. we had a little adventure. My roomates and I met up with some people and we made our way to the Coleseo General. It's the big dome down here and we paid the 'big bucks' ($10) to see the great Marcos Witt (who the hell is Marcos Witt?). Let me tell you. Marcos Witt is an older gentleman born in San Antonio, TX but moved to Mexico when he was two. He has a megachurch in Houston, TX and is also a full blown singer-songwriter...and let me tell you what, these Ecuadorians LOVE him. He's a white guy so it's weird to see a fellow Gringo light the hearts of Ecuadorians on fire, but he did it. I went to this concert and people were crying, singing their hearts out, hands in the air, dancing around...I mean freaking nuts. You would have thought it was Barry Manilow up there or something.

Anyway, the concert went a little late and my two Columbian friends and I decided to duck out. I remember thinking it was terrible idea because the place was dark except for the spotlight on ol Marcos. We had to pass by all these people...who were crying. We eventually made it outside and I was starving. The streets were packed with cars and our fearless Columbian leader Oscar decided that we were going to go a different way...our second bad idea. We proceeded to walk around for a freaking hour and make a gigantic circle. All I can understand is "Nosotros perdimos," (We're lost.) Eventually we make our way to a busier intersection and I am freaking hungry. And then, like shining symbol of freedom, I saw the letters K-F-C. They just lit up my heart and my goal in life became simple. Unfortunately that goal was not just my own, but it was shared by about 100 other Ecuadorians...the place was packed like free burrito day at Chipotle. It took another 45 min. for us to place our order and there was one point where I was like (in English), "F it...we're outta here. C'mon Oscar let's f-ing go! This place is a bust! I hate Ecuador!" (I get a little dramatic when I'm hungry and tired.) The good news is that we stayed...got our food...and things were better. We got home at 1 in the morning. The funny thing, the next morning was my previous blog post.

Was this night better than my last concert (Barry Manilow)? Well, I don't think anything will ever top that, but this one hold a special place in my heart.

Shhh....just go...

We all remember that part right? Where Lloyd Christmas presses his fingers against the lips of Mary Samsonsite or Mary Something with an 's' (Swanson) at the airport. For some reason I just thought about that, but I think it puts a funny picture to what I want to describe.

I can't really understand what's going on most of the time around here so most days I just hear the words, 'Ryan...vamos,' and I just follow. This morning I woke up, heard those magical words, and got dressed. I followed my Columbian roomates out of the house, into a taxi, and we ended up at some building. Inside there was a group of people sitting around a table having a discussion. We sat down and I was handed a piece of paper that was split into two languages: Hebrew and spanish...neither helped me. Regardless, because of the Hebrew and the fact that the guy talking with wearing a yamacah I figured it was something Jewish. I quickly gathered that we were at some kind of an ecumenical gathering with people of all denominations and religions. There were Catholics, Protestants, Jews, and even a man who was Incan, the indigenous people of Ecuador. It was this point that I started to feel something that I feel on a regular basis. It's one where I really really want to know what's going on or being said and I can't. To best describe this feeling I need to backtrack a little bit.

There are times where I wonder if life would be better had I never come; times when I feel the discomfort mentioned above. However, I remain firm to the reasons of why I did come. In Kansas City I didn't feel the 'i don't know what's going on,' but rather, 'is this it? really? this is where I'm at right now in my life.' It was one more of boredom. To escape this boredom I would try to do a million things or think about really deep things. This morning I realized something; something that I think the Lord has been trying to tell me for a long time: "Ryan...shut up and listen."

It's funny because the way the Lord is doing this is by putting me in situations where I literally can't communicate. I am forced to listen, but I don't listen to the words (though I am desperately trying to translate), but more to the expressions of the people. To listen more to people's hearts which is communicated non-verbally. This morning I could clearly understand the sincerity of a comment, or the genuine questioning, or the desperate longing, or the snide remark.

I think in general I am listening more. In a way the Lord is pressing his fingers upon my lips, similar to Lloyd Christmas, and saying, 'Shhhh....'

Thank God...

All of the last posts have been somewhat humorous and don't really describe what I'm feeling. I decided that I'm going to let loose...

Being down here is hard. I am completely out of my comfort zone most of the time. I don't speak the language and don't know what's going on quite a bit. I get very frustrated and this has been a very trying experience for me.

They say the longest 8 inches in the world is between the head and the heart. My head says, 'you're down here for a reason. you know as much spanish as you do for a reason. don't be so hard on yourself. just give it time and you're learn.' My heart doesn't get these messages. It just feels...and it feels like shit. So all of these positive phrases get re-fed with feelings and my thoughts morph into, 'what the hell am i doing here? no one just goes to a foreign country where they don't speak the language. no one volunteers for a non-profit and lives with people who don't speak english. you aren't going to do any good here.' Then life just becomes trying to make it through the day. I hate the mornings (because it's the start of the day), I hate all meals (because the people I eat with speak spanish and i'm praying they don't ask me a question), I hate when kids come because that means I have responsibilities...and i don't speak spanish. Then at night I'm praying and standing before the Lord fully exposed and at times I weep. I feel a lot.

However, there is a glimmer of hope...there is always hope. I'm not sure why but yesterday I started to thank God for everything. I've heard stories about this. I'm sure we've all heard stories about this but for me it's not until I experience something that it really sticks. I'm heard stories about a girl in Savannah, GA who was suicidal, but decided she was going to thank God for something every 5 min. and it changed her life. I've heard stories about two women in a concentration camp during the holocaust. They thanked God for the fleas that covered them and the other inmates and in turn were able to preach the Word of God without fear because no guard wanted to be around the fleas. I've heard that we should thank God in advance. I've heard that which we can't control is God's will. I've heard these things, and I'm starting to act on it. "Lord, thank you for the mornings. Thank you that I get to eat with these people and hear their language. Thank you for these kids and being able to be in front of them. Thank you for Your Presence." As I did these things an incredible thing happened: a bridge was formed between my head and my heart; one that believed the positive thoughts from before. I do believe that I am down here for a reason. I do believe that I know as much spanish as I do for reason. I don't need to be so hard on myself. I will learn spanish... it's pretty incredible.

There is still much that needs to happen, much that needs to be felt, much that needs to be seen, but for now I'm good. For now I'm only at two weeks and I still have 3 and a half months to go... thank God.

Sometimes life is hard...then there's fire

Ain't that some sh...

I usually don't say that phrase...ever...but hey, people are new, language is new, temperature is new, why not a new phrase?

There were about 3 instances that made me think that to myself. I shall now recount them:

This is a public restroom. It's outside of a sweet Church in one of

Quito's squares. There's a lot of people there; lot of street vendors; the occasional concert. So I'm with my friend Lenin and I have to go to the bathroom. I decide to give this one a whirl. I try to walk into the stall and the lady outside stops me and says, 'Diez centavos.' Alright...a little different, but I can swing that. I hand her the money and do my business (#1). I wash my hands and I'm looking for a paper towel. "15 centavos," shouts the lady. What? You gotta be kidding me... I decide to pass. Luckily for me I only had to go #1. Turns out toilet paper is 10 centavos...

Ain't that some shi...

I woke up this morning and was wearing socks. It's gets a little cold here and my feet get a little chilly. I had to go with my roomate Javy to buy some bread and eggs and what not. I slipped on my sandals...that's right, socks and sandals. I wore them all day....

Ain't that some shi...

The other day we had a 'team meeting.' The head lady Caro was talking in spanish and as usual I couldn't understand jack. Every now and then my other roommate Jorge would translate for me. I heard something about toilet paper, but I wasn't sure what they were talking about. I went up to Caro after the meeting and was like, 'Hey, so what's the deal with toilet paper.' She replied, 'Oh, you can't throw your toilet paper in the toilet. It has to go in the trash can.' I just looked at her..., 'Welcome to a third world country.'

Ain't that some shit.