I've taken a while to post in the blog, mainly because I've been waiting for something profound or inspiring to share with you all. The truth is that life in another country is just life. We've done some really amazing things and each day has beauty and adventure, just like home.
Being a mama abroad doesn't afford time for blog posts and profound insights, and there is also some pressure from you mamas and friends who always wished to travel abroad and are living vicariously through me hoping that somewhere beyond your horizon is something better, more interesting or more important.
Life in Quito is hard. It isn't getting easier. My children, especially Olivia are having a difficult time with school here for whatever reason. It doesn't really matter, it's hard to support them when it just isn't a good fit. I feel obligated to help out with my role as a volunteer in the school-but equally obligated to offer rest and comfort to my ninos-especially Olivia who is having her first mean girl experiences and just wants to stay in our home here. My happy and capable girl cries because she doesn't have friends and really misses home. She begs me to not go to school. This is completely new and completely overwhelming.
Life in Quito is also thrilling. The medical care is affordable, my friends generous. The kids love playing futbol, riding the bus and our weekend adventures. Gladys and her family have been so kind and helpful and our neighbors offer assistance whenever they can. We've seen culture, eaten new foods (not guinea pig!) and learned enough Spanish to realize we still need to learn more. Each day offers a new connection, a new view and most importantly a new realization about ourselves and about people in general.
But really, traveling this far for this long of time has made me realize what a sweet spot of the world we live in and how special my friends and family are. It's helped my kids realize that their family, friends, teachers and classmates are in their lives for specific reasons and that they are all so much more important than a new toy or movie.
We are anxious for Clayton to arrive. His arrival marks a shift in our experience. We have plans to visit other parts of the country with him. If our visas are extended, (which is a whole OTHER story!) we have a condo reserved in a small fishing village on the equator. Olivia will take surfing lessons like she's always wanted and Jack will probably hop up there with her just to find out he's always wanted to know about it too. Our family will be together and we will "reset" and decide whether the smaller community is a good fit or if coming back to Oregon is what we need.
One small note for those of you who will feel the need to encourage us or to say something to make it all better. At home, Jack and I collect heart shaped rocks when we're out and about. If they are small enough, we bring them home and add them to our collection. When we find them we talk about how much God loves us and consider the hearts to be a love note from Him. We collect a rock every few weeks at home. Here in Ecuador-it's getting ridiculous how many hearts we encounter. Daily it's in the double digits-and we've stopped bringing them home because the collection is huge already. We see hearts everywhere. In a restaurant the other day-a perfectly good table cloth with a heart burned into it. On the clean concrete wall, a single graffiti heart. Yesterday in my soup, a heart shaped cauliflower. It sounds so silly to you Stateside...I'm sure-but to a mama who is struggling to provide bacon for her kids (literally) and is living in the shadow of an active volcano...the hearts are God telling us it's exactly as it should be...for me in Ecuador-and for you who want desperately for something different than you have.
So much more love for you than I knew,
Alyssum
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Permanently...and presently...I am. You are. He is.
The most difficult verb for me to work with and understand in Spanish is "Ser" (to be...permanently) and "Estar" (to be...presently). In the English language...and in our culture as well...when a person uses a form of the verb "to be" there is only one choice. When we say we are happy, we say "I am happy." When people talk about us and our character when we aren't around, they say "She is successful," or "She is such a hag." There is no room for human-ness or the growth that comes with years of experience...usually hardship. There also is no room for bad days and misunderstandings. When we announce "I am'" there is a permanence in that verb and with it, a weight of judgment.
In the Spanish language, we can say that we are happy permanently, or that we are happy presently. In Espanol we are flexible and patient with ourselves and with others. Judgment seems to be absent in this culture and I wonder if part of this is the latitude granted by two forms of the verb "to be." Because of course people are always be-coming....but it takes us Americans a long time..and wear... and tear to abandon the idea that "to be" is permanent. In Ecuador, I am sad sometimes and at others times I am so content I could just rest for a while...for once. The verbs here let me say what I want...and the people here get that those expressions don't define a thing.
Friday, September 18, 2015
Homesick
According to Wikipedia homesickness has risk factors:
Last week each of the kids chose a parakeet to love and care for. I watch the way Jack pursues his parakeet. Even though I've talked him through how to tame his bird so that he can hold it on his finger and enjoy him up close, he pursues that poor bird around the cage moving his hand closer and closer while the bird moves further and further away from him. He even let the bird out of the cage at one point and the poor thing flew around until it bumped into a door jamb and fell to the floor. Olivia, on the other hand, will sit with her hand in the cage and leave it steady so that her bird will become used to her presence. She is patient and trusts the process of taming her bird.
I recognize myself in Jack and I recognize Clayton in Olivia. In the case of Ecuador I am Jack and Ecuador is that poor parakeet that bonked his head on the door frame. Like Jack, I have been told about the process-but have taken the view that the more assertive I am with this process, the sooner I'll be able to hold it in my hand. These past few mornings, I have simply wanted to stay in bed and binge watch Netflix. I wouldn't mind a bag of Doritos-Nacho please. And those pumpkin spice lattes you keep posting on Facebook make me want to cry.
I miss soft green grass, changing leaves, soft sheets. I miss Clayton and I miss Clayton with Olivia and Jack. I miss familiar-and have been forcing myself on this new place in an effort to make it familiar. I need to take a lesson from my daughter-who is more Clayton than Alyssum. Their gift is to trust the process and be patient with themselves and with their circumstances. Day by day, the parakeet will become familiar, not all at once...and certainly not anybody else's terms.
We rode a bus home today. It was absolutely packed with people and getting onto the bus involved us running and actually being thrown onto the bus by the man who collects money at every stop. It was the rear entrance and the door wouldn't shut past my body because the bus was so full of people. An abuelita held her arms out to Jack and brought him gently onto her lap. She held him tightly with both arms as the bus made its way along its route. I may be a "great perceived distance" from home and there ARE huge differences in language and culture and food between what we've known and what we are experiencing now-but Jack held safely on that senora's lap on a dirty crowded bus was lovely-and it felt a little like Ecuador was holding us in her hands.
- Attitude Factors: The belief that homesickness will be strong; negative first impressions and low expectations for the new environment; perceived absence of social support; high perceived demands (e.g., on academic or vocational functioning); great perceived distance from home
- Environmental Factors: High cultural contrast (e.g., different language, customs, food); threats to physical and emotional safety; dramatic alternations in daily schedule; lack of information about the new place; perceived discrimination
Last week each of the kids chose a parakeet to love and care for. I watch the way Jack pursues his parakeet. Even though I've talked him through how to tame his bird so that he can hold it on his finger and enjoy him up close, he pursues that poor bird around the cage moving his hand closer and closer while the bird moves further and further away from him. He even let the bird out of the cage at one point and the poor thing flew around until it bumped into a door jamb and fell to the floor. Olivia, on the other hand, will sit with her hand in the cage and leave it steady so that her bird will become used to her presence. She is patient and trusts the process of taming her bird.
I recognize myself in Jack and I recognize Clayton in Olivia. In the case of Ecuador I am Jack and Ecuador is that poor parakeet that bonked his head on the door frame. Like Jack, I have been told about the process-but have taken the view that the more assertive I am with this process, the sooner I'll be able to hold it in my hand. These past few mornings, I have simply wanted to stay in bed and binge watch Netflix. I wouldn't mind a bag of Doritos-Nacho please. And those pumpkin spice lattes you keep posting on Facebook make me want to cry.
I miss soft green grass, changing leaves, soft sheets. I miss Clayton and I miss Clayton with Olivia and Jack. I miss familiar-and have been forcing myself on this new place in an effort to make it familiar. I need to take a lesson from my daughter-who is more Clayton than Alyssum. Their gift is to trust the process and be patient with themselves and with their circumstances. Day by day, the parakeet will become familiar, not all at once...and certainly not anybody else's terms.
We rode a bus home today. It was absolutely packed with people and getting onto the bus involved us running and actually being thrown onto the bus by the man who collects money at every stop. It was the rear entrance and the door wouldn't shut past my body because the bus was so full of people. An abuelita held her arms out to Jack and brought him gently onto her lap. She held him tightly with both arms as the bus made its way along its route. I may be a "great perceived distance" from home and there ARE huge differences in language and culture and food between what we've known and what we are experiencing now-but Jack held safely on that senora's lap on a dirty crowded bus was lovely-and it felt a little like Ecuador was holding us in her hands.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
A Challenging Time
This first full week of school has been very difficult for me. I have been 100% sure we'll be coming back by January several times an hour...and then a child grabs my hand, or Olivia gives a big hug to another child, or I catch a glimpse of the great equalizing childhood game-Rock, Paper, Scissors with Jack in the middle and then I feel differently...Jack cried for the beginning of the first three days of school this week. It's so hard to see him upset about not wanting to go to school....mainly (honestly)-because I don't want to go either. I've gone from teaching Algebra and Chemistry while juggling 17 young and brilliant adults to holding hands, changing soiled clothes and just sitting still. These children are so sweet and beautiful-but honestly...I can't understand a word some of them say to me...usually in a rush because they've been wronged by another child. There's one little boy who speaks kindergartenese in Spanish and like many little boys with long eyelashes and tiny dimpled hands-he has A LOT to say. I mean A LOT.
Soup at every meal. I am one of those people...like most Americans-who eats soup like three times a year and again when I'm sick. So getting used to soup is taking some getting used to. And then there's the potato surplus...potatoes in soup, potatoes fried, potatoes with peas, potatoes boiled and mashed, potatoes with beans, potatoes with beets and cabbage...it's like Green Eggs and Ham. I will not eat them in a soup, I will not eat them, they taste like poop. I will not eat them in a mash, I will not eat them for some cash. I will not eat them Sam I am, I DO NOT LIKE them Sam I am! I could go on and on and imagine that once I return to the United States-I will never eat another potato again. Really, the food is pretty delicious...but a cheeseburger sounds pretty good after soup and potatoes with every meal.
Today was our first faculty meeting. I felt like I contributed in a few meaningful ways...in a new language...in an effort to serve our students. We drank Pepsi and ate guacamole sandwiches-without potatoes! and ran for a bus that stopped for us-a group of eight very different people arm in arm waving our arms wildly hoping the driver (who sits in a lawn chair strapped to the floor) will feel pity for us and wait while we jog the 50 yards to the bus stop.
I'm not kidding you-the teachers walked away in love-the kind of love that makes a girl 100% sure she won't return to the states in January.
Soup at every meal. I am one of those people...like most Americans-who eats soup like three times a year and again when I'm sick. So getting used to soup is taking some getting used to. And then there's the potato surplus...potatoes in soup, potatoes fried, potatoes with peas, potatoes boiled and mashed, potatoes with beans, potatoes with beets and cabbage...it's like Green Eggs and Ham. I will not eat them in a soup, I will not eat them, they taste like poop. I will not eat them in a mash, I will not eat them for some cash. I will not eat them Sam I am, I DO NOT LIKE them Sam I am! I could go on and on and imagine that once I return to the United States-I will never eat another potato again. Really, the food is pretty delicious...but a cheeseburger sounds pretty good after soup and potatoes with every meal.
Today was our first faculty meeting. I felt like I contributed in a few meaningful ways...in a new language...in an effort to serve our students. We drank Pepsi and ate guacamole sandwiches-without potatoes! and ran for a bus that stopped for us-a group of eight very different people arm in arm waving our arms wildly hoping the driver (who sits in a lawn chair strapped to the floor) will feel pity for us and wait while we jog the 50 yards to the bus stop.
I'm not kidding you-the teachers walked away in love-the kind of love that makes a girl 100% sure she won't return to the states in January.
Saturday, September 5, 2015
The milk comes in plastic bags...
When you buy milk, you buy it in plastic bags and carry it home in plastic bags. You cut a little corner off the top and put the bag in a pitcher...pouring out a little on your cereal or into a cup of tea when you want it. Then you put the pitcher with its bag of milk back in the refrigerator. At the end of the bag...you squeeze the remaining liquid out forcing the last drops out...sort of like a tube of toothpaste. Weird.
The teachers and parents of the school we are working in and with meet on Saturdays. We just finished a five hour meeting covering just about everything and as far as I know just about nothing.... Attending as a kindergarten assistant is easy enough when the meeting is conducted in another language, because I can get the gist of the message...but attending as a parent who wants to make sure that every material is bought and prepared for their children and so that every requirement is met ensuring success in class is another experience. I can say that I only want to speak English, read English and sit in English for a while. One of the requirements of each family is to feed the entire school-100 people- one snack and one lunch per month. At least I think that's what I heard....and when I asked if that meant 100 hamburgers, a mother blurted out, "100 QUINOA BURGERS." Another mother responded sweetly, "You're only up all night once a month...." in broken English. I think single, full time staff with limited abilities to cook 100 of anything besides chocolate chip cookies should be exempt from this requirement....But I may have it wrong...maybe I don't have to manage 100 servings of rice with green beans and cilantro... At this point, I couldn't really say.
One other comment-there are no ovens in this country as far as I can tell...only stovetops....gas stovetops which I have almost zero experience with. I thank God I haven't blown my eyebrows off every time I scramble Jack's eggs or grill Olivia's sandwiches. I wouldn't know how to begin to explain fried eye brows in Spanish...but it feels good to write to you about it in English.
Much love to each of you my friends.
The teachers and parents of the school we are working in and with meet on Saturdays. We just finished a five hour meeting covering just about everything and as far as I know just about nothing.... Attending as a kindergarten assistant is easy enough when the meeting is conducted in another language, because I can get the gist of the message...but attending as a parent who wants to make sure that every material is bought and prepared for their children and so that every requirement is met ensuring success in class is another experience. I can say that I only want to speak English, read English and sit in English for a while. One of the requirements of each family is to feed the entire school-100 people- one snack and one lunch per month. At least I think that's what I heard....and when I asked if that meant 100 hamburgers, a mother blurted out, "100 QUINOA BURGERS." Another mother responded sweetly, "You're only up all night once a month...." in broken English. I think single, full time staff with limited abilities to cook 100 of anything besides chocolate chip cookies should be exempt from this requirement....But I may have it wrong...maybe I don't have to manage 100 servings of rice with green beans and cilantro... At this point, I couldn't really say.
One other comment-there are no ovens in this country as far as I can tell...only stovetops....gas stovetops which I have almost zero experience with. I thank God I haven't blown my eyebrows off every time I scramble Jack's eggs or grill Olivia's sandwiches. I wouldn't know how to begin to explain fried eye brows in Spanish...but it feels good to write to you about it in English.
Much love to each of you my friends.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
It's been a week.
I cannot emphasize enough how completely overwhelmed and terrified I've been at times...and at others completely happy. Coming to a new place is one thing, but coming with the intent of living there, another. A teacher at the school the kids will be attending and that I will be volunteering in met us at the airport...it was just us...because our suitcases were still back in Seattle. Luckily, we packed extra underwear...and our toothbrushes. Once again, I though I spoke enough Spanish to get by until I was standing at the carousel with two exhausted kids and a shrinking supply of our potential luggage. In order to tell the person who was meeting us at the airport about our situation, I had to describe my situation to the customs agents who, living in Ecuador's heart, spoke no English. I buggered out a few verbs: Tener, Esperar and Neccitar that seemed to do the trick and we were allowed to find our ride and return to the counter in order to secure the arrival of our luggage.
Driving from the airport to our new part of the world, Conocota was a mixture of awe and fear. First of all, there don't seem to be many seatbelts...and plenty of need for them. The roads aren't marked well and turn and churn through roundabouts that put any city I've visited to shame. Frankly, I'm sitting here with pretty much no clue where I am. With the help of the woman who met us and her family...all who I count as my lifelong friends, I've learned how to call a taxi, ride a city bus...sometimes while standing on a speeding and lurching ship full of people on their way to school, work and home, shop for food, find empanadas (where have they been all my life?) among so many things I can't even begin to name them! I found peanut butter costs $10.00 and rice is almost free...We've tried food we would never had even looked at as an option because we are so hungry at times....papaya is pretty good even though it smells like it shouldn't be.
Our first day of school was today. I cannot even begin to explain how completely beautiful each of the students and teachers who have found themselves in this school are. I found myself closing my eyes in an attempt to capture how complete their lives make me feel inside. Jack's face glowed as new friends and teachers greeted him with the usual hug and kiss and Olivia amazes me with her ability to connect with the children in her class. It's good to be here in this time and place. Estoy Feliz.
Oh...and yesterday a taxi driver said I spoke Spanish pretty well. Bring on the missing luggage. ;)
Driving from the airport to our new part of the world, Conocota was a mixture of awe and fear. First of all, there don't seem to be many seatbelts...and plenty of need for them. The roads aren't marked well and turn and churn through roundabouts that put any city I've visited to shame. Frankly, I'm sitting here with pretty much no clue where I am. With the help of the woman who met us and her family...all who I count as my lifelong friends, I've learned how to call a taxi, ride a city bus...sometimes while standing on a speeding and lurching ship full of people on their way to school, work and home, shop for food, find empanadas (where have they been all my life?) among so many things I can't even begin to name them! I found peanut butter costs $10.00 and rice is almost free...We've tried food we would never had even looked at as an option because we are so hungry at times....papaya is pretty good even though it smells like it shouldn't be.
Our first day of school was today. I cannot even begin to explain how completely beautiful each of the students and teachers who have found themselves in this school are. I found myself closing my eyes in an attempt to capture how complete their lives make me feel inside. Jack's face glowed as new friends and teachers greeted him with the usual hug and kiss and Olivia amazes me with her ability to connect with the children in her class. It's good to be here in this time and place. Estoy Feliz.
Oh...and yesterday a taxi driver said I spoke Spanish pretty well. Bring on the missing luggage. ;)
Monday, August 17, 2015
A lot of people-mostly mamas- wonder why I've decided to leave everything behind to live in a country that doesn't speak our language and where we will clearly be outsiders.
About 15 years ago, I decided to spend a summer studying and traveling alone in Costa Rica. I remember the first night being totally overwhelmed by the situation I had put myself into when I got off of the plane in San Jose and everything I needed to know about even getting out of the airport was written mostly in Spanish. I was met by a person from the school I would be attending who scooted me through the airport and the streets of Heredia to a tiny home with an iron fence guarding its entrance. My Mama Tica met me at the door of my first homestay with the warmest smile. She spoke no English and up to that point, I thought I knew enough Spanish to get by. She led me to my humble room that had been clearly arranged with love and care and bid me good night. I cried a little that night-wondering what I had done.
From that next morning on, although I was clearly an outsider, I was granted compassion, patience and generosity. I stumbled through Salsa dancing-and on a lot of Tican toes-at the local bars in the towns I lived in, enjoyed eating all sorts of food I would never have dreamed existed and enjoyed being included in the daily community games of futbol in the towns' church squares. Gradually, I began to speak the language with the very patient people I met in every grocery store, bank and restaurant who beamed back at me while I conjugated verbs all over them.
At one point, I found myself in an emergency room in Monteverde trying to explain an illness I needed medication for. Nobody spoke English. Alone and sick, I struggled to explain through my broken Spanish and gestures why I was there. There was an empathy in the doctors' and nurses' eyes that I can still feel the warmth of. I knew I was safe.
Yesterday, Ecuador called on the phone. The sister-in-law of one of the teachers from the school my children will be attending had arranged to come to that teacher's home and speak English with me on the telephone. I had already gathered most of the things we spoke about from emails and Facebook messages I had exchanged with her over the past weeks but...At the end of the conversation, Gabriella said, "Alyssum, we are so happy and excited that you and your children are coming to Ecuador." She went on to say that the director of the school, Moises, the teacher, Gladys and her husband-who are opening their home to us while we buscando (search) for a suitable apartment next week, and Gabriella will be meeting us at the airport in Quito.
My children and I will be outsiders in Ecuador, and through this experience they will learn humor, patience, humility, empathy and generosity. They will learn to go without all of the comforts of our home here and accept the gifts of hospitality the families of our school's community have donated to our new home. They will sit in a classroom confused and overwhelmed and be met by children and teachers who will quietly come beside them and beam at Olivia and Jack as they learn so much more than how to speak a new language.
We are going to Ecuador to learn about being an outsider-and through that- learn what others need in order to know that they belong.
About 15 years ago, I decided to spend a summer studying and traveling alone in Costa Rica. I remember the first night being totally overwhelmed by the situation I had put myself into when I got off of the plane in San Jose and everything I needed to know about even getting out of the airport was written mostly in Spanish. I was met by a person from the school I would be attending who scooted me through the airport and the streets of Heredia to a tiny home with an iron fence guarding its entrance. My Mama Tica met me at the door of my first homestay with the warmest smile. She spoke no English and up to that point, I thought I knew enough Spanish to get by. She led me to my humble room that had been clearly arranged with love and care and bid me good night. I cried a little that night-wondering what I had done.
From that next morning on, although I was clearly an outsider, I was granted compassion, patience and generosity. I stumbled through Salsa dancing-and on a lot of Tican toes-at the local bars in the towns I lived in, enjoyed eating all sorts of food I would never have dreamed existed and enjoyed being included in the daily community games of futbol in the towns' church squares. Gradually, I began to speak the language with the very patient people I met in every grocery store, bank and restaurant who beamed back at me while I conjugated verbs all over them.
At one point, I found myself in an emergency room in Monteverde trying to explain an illness I needed medication for. Nobody spoke English. Alone and sick, I struggled to explain through my broken Spanish and gestures why I was there. There was an empathy in the doctors' and nurses' eyes that I can still feel the warmth of. I knew I was safe.
Yesterday, Ecuador called on the phone. The sister-in-law of one of the teachers from the school my children will be attending had arranged to come to that teacher's home and speak English with me on the telephone. I had already gathered most of the things we spoke about from emails and Facebook messages I had exchanged with her over the past weeks but...At the end of the conversation, Gabriella said, "Alyssum, we are so happy and excited that you and your children are coming to Ecuador." She went on to say that the director of the school, Moises, the teacher, Gladys and her husband-who are opening their home to us while we buscando (search) for a suitable apartment next week, and Gabriella will be meeting us at the airport in Quito.
My children and I will be outsiders in Ecuador, and through this experience they will learn humor, patience, humility, empathy and generosity. They will learn to go without all of the comforts of our home here and accept the gifts of hospitality the families of our school's community have donated to our new home. They will sit in a classroom confused and overwhelmed and be met by children and teachers who will quietly come beside them and beam at Olivia and Jack as they learn so much more than how to speak a new language.
We are going to Ecuador to learn about being an outsider-and through that- learn what others need in order to know that they belong.
A week before we are to depart for Ecuador, the nearby volcano begins to belch. The news outlets say that the country's government has declared a state of emergency. And I think, a responsible mother would never take her children to live on another continent where the volcanoes are erupting nearby.
That and our visa situation has not been resolved. It started with the letter "u" left out of my reprinted degree that I needed to order to secure a professional visa. Then there were two "e's" missing from my husband's middle name on my children's birth certificates. (Who spells the name Fredrick with an E....who gives their son the middle name Frederick?) After getting all of those letters figured out-we're still waiting on the affidavit for a name change on the birth certificates...and we're leaving in six days.
I'm wondering if this trip is going to happen.
Counting socks and underwear....and keeping a mental list of what NOT to forget...like a thermometer that measures in Fahrenheit so that I can tell whether or not to take my child's fever seriously.
That and our visa situation has not been resolved. It started with the letter "u" left out of my reprinted degree that I needed to order to secure a professional visa. Then there were two "e's" missing from my husband's middle name on my children's birth certificates. (Who spells the name Fredrick with an E....who gives their son the middle name Frederick?) After getting all of those letters figured out-we're still waiting on the affidavit for a name change on the birth certificates...and we're leaving in six days.
I'm wondering if this trip is going to happen.
Counting socks and underwear....and keeping a mental list of what NOT to forget...like a thermometer that measures in Fahrenheit so that I can tell whether or not to take my child's fever seriously.
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