So, this is it...

Yep.  That's correct.  Day 30.  It is officially my last day of Galapagueño blogging.  Wow.  WOW!  Thirty days have passed.  I am kind of in shock.  But, here we are I guess.  How time flies...  So, that being said, I guess this would be the time that we do a little cheesy reflection piece on what Galapagos means and has meant for me.  So, sit back, grab a cup of tea, and let's do just that.

Galapagos has been a significant experience for many reasons.  Firstly, after studying abroad in Costa Rica and definitely after going to Spain, I heard a lot of, "Well, it's good you're getting this out of your system now!" or "Do it while you're young and can!" or "What a once-in-a-lifetime experience!"  I hated these comments, still do.  They did and do imply that horrific notion that living abroad and traveling the world is a one-time gig for people in and right out of college.  However, after meeting people like my friend William when I lived in Spain, a robust giant from South Africa with long hair who had visited 60-some countries and had packed up with his wife when she was four months pregnant to move to Guatemala to study Spanish---well, meeting people like this told and tells me otherwise.  It is only once-in-a-lifetime experience if you let it be.

Nonetheless, I am not William or other people I met, and I was afraid--no terrified--that it WOULD be the case for me.  Little girl who talked big and ended up settling for a mediocre job and accepting the mundane plot life had handed me while I sat at a shitty desk job thinking about all of the things I SAID I was going to do while my passion rotted away.  Essentially, that was exactly what was happening to me.  I'll never say that I was "settling in" to Jersey  (it is the only place I have ever lived that never felt like "home"), but I will say that I was settling for Jersey.  I was not happy, in fact a far cry from it.  I was the epitome of discontent and if you want the real scoop---misery.  I had a boyfriend, a good steady job, my own apartment, lived by the beach, lived in the middle of a travel hub...but, in my daily life my passions were WASTING AWAY bit, by bit, by bit.  It seemed the harder I tried to ameliorate the situation within my every day, the more I rotted and the more I became nervous for change.

Finally, one day when the main factor that was holding me there walked out of my life, I realized I was in limbo---I was neither committing to the things I was dreaming of, nor committing to the person who was dreaming of me.  So, within a week of that day, I set my departure day, and I began putting the pieces of my life back together while also putting together the pieces of the puzzle that would be my exodus.  I did not know exactly where, but I knew when and that was all that mattered.  It was as though that spark of desire which had been flickering was ignited within me and I knew that I was either going big, or I was going home; I chose the option one.  I was NOT going to be that girl sitting unnoticed on the sidelines shuffling papers for the others' adventures.  If I was going to be shuffling anybody's papers, they were going to be mine, en route to do something amazing.

I had been compiling a list of opportunities abroad for five years.  So, I set myself to work updating the list, exploring my options, scouring for new ones, and getting things in order for my departure.  I made sure the lease for the apartment I had to find (literally in a week when my roommate sprung the news on me that her significant other and the dog were moving in against my wishes) was a six month lease or less.  As luck would have it, I found exactly that with the first apartment I looked at.  I made some calls and figured out where I was going to camp out once I rolled out of town.  As luck would have it, my brother had a sofa and an open heart.  I began putting money away and figuring out where I could go and for how long.  As luck would have it, all of that saved up vacation time was going straight into my bank account.  It seemed with every step I took off the beaten path, luck was following right behind me and tossing out gold coins along the way.

I applied for this job on a whim, with a start date in January, shortly before getting rid of the majority of my worldly possessions, moving out of my apartment, packing my car, and driving 1,300 miles cross-country by myself in the dead of winter with no life plan.  Amidst interviews for other interesting positions, out of the blue I received an email that a position here was now available for March.  My stomach jolted with excitement as I scrambled to pull up not only the job description again, but also photos of this random place in the middle of nowhere called San Cristobal.  One look, and a few squeals of delight, and I interviewed.

I had been talking for years about wanting to give teaching English another try as I had LOVED tutoring in Spain and, as circumstance and luck would have it, I landed the job. I applied for my visa (that was a project in itself!), it was approved, and booked my plane ticket one week before I was set to arrive on the continent.  I had no idea what to expect and although I was terrified about the idea of being confined to an island of 6,000 people for six months, I was intrigued by the possibilities, enthralled by the mystery that surrounded this mythical place, and lured in by the challenges of life on a volcanic rock in the middle of the ocean.  I was sold.  I packed my bags and landed in South America seven days later.

So, here I am again at a point in my life when my existence and self has undergone a complete transformation.  I am living in an entirely new country, in an entirely new culture, in an entirely new apartment, with an entirely new career, and an entirely new support system.  And, despite everything being "entirely new," coming here has felt so familiar, like I've lived here my entire life.  The sensation of speaking Spanish rolled off my tongue with the comfort of almost my native language.  The sound of the waves crashing upon their aquamarine selves felt like it had been an every day fixture in my life.  The rundown buildings and the gritty streets and saunter of people seeming to have all the time in the world....  This, THIS was home.  This IS home.  THIS is what I do.  THIS is my life.  It isn't a pit-stop in an existence of immobility or a one-time-chance---it is my passion.  Galapagos is my playground.  It is belief in myself.  It is peace of mind and heart.  It is smiling every single day and genuinely believing it when I say, "I LOVE MY LIFE!!!!"  It is waves and sand and sunsets and nature mixed with frustration and grit and limitation and restriction.....  It is the adventure that I craved from the bowels of my existence and the murky depths of my weary heart.  

Galapagos IS....well, it just is.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I'd like to thank you, my dear readers---whoever and wherever you may be---for sharing in my adventure, even if it has just been in the form of opening your browser.  It has been an honor writing to you and has given me a consciousness that might have otherwise been ignored.  You have allowed and forced me to take a closer look at all of my surroundings both physically, intellectually, and emotionally; as I always say to any student I have---opening your eyes has opened mine immeasurable.  So, I leave you now, some of you for forever, but for most probably not.  I thank you again.  It has been a privilege.  Before we depart, let me just say one last thing--the adventure is just beginning.  From my America to yours, so long!

So, what has been hardest about living on the island?

Nope----not the limited supplies, not the language barrier, not sharing a kitchen, not being without a TV, not dealing the heat, not the mosquitoes, not the cockroaches, not learning a new profession, not relearning English grammar, not teaching students HOW to be students, not dealing with the chaos of Ecuadorian bureaucracy, not going without hot showers, not being unable to bake, not being able to locate tennis shoes larger than a size seven, not waking up at 6:00am and not getting off until 8:30pm, not budgeting on $12 a day...   Nope, none of that.

The most challenging thing thus far (which has been shocking even to me) has been being without my computer.  My computer has been in the USA since May 8th getting repaired.  So in addition to 30 days of daily blogging, I decided during this time I would also make it a 30 day stint (meaning it will arrive June 3rd and will sit in my bedroom as a paper weight for five days---when I am not cuddling it to sleep or carrying it around like a baby that is).  It seems petty and silly, yes, but until now I did not realize how integral it was.  So, let's explore:

1.)  I don't have a phone, so I use it to skype, chat/email with friends at home, and chat/email friends here about plans.  The school computers do not have skype, nor some programs I use to chat, and email is limited to the computer lab.

2.)  I don't have a TV or a DVD player.  In a city with limited evening recreational activities, there's no movie on a Friday night laying low (unless I go to Em's house or ask her to lug her computer to mine.  There's no watching the news or any TV show should I so desire, as even online the internet isn't fast to stream video and even if it did---many programs have international limitations (ie. netflix, ABC/NBC online).  So, unless I want to break into the computer lab and curl up on a horribly uncomfortable chair on a Friday night to watch a movie, this is not going to happen.

3.)  I can't get an international newspaper or magazine, and those from the mainland arrive by boat which comes twice a week.  Yep, that's right---No Oprah/Time/Real Simple magazines here and definitely no paperboy making his rounds.  If there is big news, I generally hear about it by word of mouth---or not.  If I do have time and energy by the time I have finished work in the computer lab to look at the news online, it is only brief.  Needless to say, sans the tornado in Joplin, I have little knowledge of what has been happening in the USA/outside world for the last twenty-seven-some days.  The news and any online leisure reading is kaput for now.

4.)  I don't have my old photos and don't have editing software to edit new ones I take.  So, I don't really take photos which is one of my most enjoyable past times.  I CAN take them, but seeing them on a tiny LCD screen with depleted colors and leaving to them to rot on my camera is less than desirable.  I can upload them on to the school computer, but I'd better have a flashdisk to put them on and accept that won't be able to adjust the settings to actually show the vibrant reality which kind of makes them worth posting.  And, although I do have some printed photos of my family and friends, there are about 10.  So, I can't even take a walk down memory lane when I'm bored, missing certain loved ones, or craving a look at the outside world...

5.)  I can't put on music while I am in my room.  Unless it is on my iPOD or I am using speakers from Emilee (which I have used only once as god knows if they get broken they are not getting replaced on this island), I don't get to have the soothing sounds of music while I'm working, studying, or hanging out.  And, with more songs than my iPOD can hold, that song I suddenly crave listening to....well, undoubtedly it's one of the 1,000 songs which didn't fit on my iPOD, and the internet can't stream music either.  So, start humming, self.  Dance parties just got super boring.

6.)  I don't have access to my computer files including my e-books.  I currently tote around two different flash disks.  One has some of the files that I need which I use for opening and editing.  Then, I have to save them on another flashdisk because I have to ask my colleague to print them, and as computers here frequently get viruses, if I lose any files I haven't emailed to myself----well, I'm screwed.  And, the ebooks I have been reading are gone, so I am limited to the few good reads that hide in the small stacks in the library or that others have left behind.  Pickins are slim....

7.) I don't have the luxury to choose working hours.  Yep, that's right.  The computer lab is "open" from 9-5pm from Monday through Friday.  I say "open" because it will often be closed when my colleagues go to lunch or what have you.  So, my personal schedule now revolves around the computer lab hours.  On weekends I have to wait until the evening security guard is here (he sits two feet from it) to have him open it unless I hunt down the groundskeeper and bother him to open it for me during the off hours.

8.)  I don't have the convenience or luxury to choose/personalize my work space.  Yeah, I LIKE to work from my bed or to have a desk or table to spread out all of my materials on.  When I work in the computer lab, I am contained to a little space to the right and left where I put the materials that I lug down here.  And, anything of value such as my flashdisk I have to remember to take with me if I have to leave the room momentarily for some reason.

9.)  I don't like to suffer in order to use a computer.  Let me describe the conditions of the computer lab in one phrase: "sweatshop."  Yes, it is STEAMING hot in the computer lab such that sweat usually runs down my legs and my shirt is well-pitted out after a short time.  Plus, the chairs are as good as boards or rocks.  And my nimble fingers and brain are not use to typing on a Spanish keyboard.

As you can see from the above, on an island of limitations (finances, resources, possessions, comforts, travel), this has by FAR been the most difficult thing for me.  Yes, I do have the luxury of having a computer lab within a 30 second walk of my bedroom, but by the time I blog (30 minutes - 1.5 hours), do work (1-6 hours), read and respond to student emails (10 minutes to an hour), AND check my own email to see if there's anything I need to immediately respond to----I am running for the doors.

Personal communication/access to information is severed in some senses or limited in others.  Comfort and convenience are basically gone.  Entertainment is downsized and in limited forms.  The reality is---I can go without hummus, I can survive without air conditioning, I can wear "Off" 24/7, and I can smash a cockroach when it comes skittering at me.  But, as I have now learned with my circumstances abroad and living on an island, for me this piece of technology, this luxury, means so much more than I had originally realized.  It is my lifeline to a lot of the outside world, and in some senses has been a key component to keeping my sanity intact.

So, as I count down the final days of daily blogging with a feeling of sadness (only 1 day left!), the jubilation of having my computer back by far outweighs this disappointment.  Although I will no longer be a daily presence on the computer screen, I will regain the opportunity to speak (when the electricity and internet connection permit) and communicate in ways which I have been left me feeling seriously deprived.  As my friend Em said, "When your computer comes back, I'm probably not going to see you for three weeks."  Yeah, she's probably right....

So, I get tired....

...of hearing the phrase "You're SO lucky!" regarding my experiences living/traveling abroad.  Seriously.  Think about it.  Do you ever utter or hear the phrase, "You're SO lucky that you worked hard and graduated college!" or "You're so lucky that you saved money and bought a house!" or "You're so lucky that you packed up your life and moved to Kentucky!"...?  Exactly.  You don't.  Because it's not luck.  Lucky is winning the lottery, buying the ticket was choice.  So, I'd like to take a few minutes to establish what "luck" is and isn't with regard to my living abroad in Galapagos.

LUCK: The fact that opportunities like this exist in Ecuador.

NOT LUCK:  Having a degree, actively seeking it out, having a strong resume, and acing the interview.

LUCK:  Getting my visa approved in time.

NOT LUCK:  Running around like crazy to get the documentation while living halfway across the country from my "state of residence," dropping the money for it,  holding my breath that my passport would not get lost in the mail and would arrive on time.

LUCK:  A change in the position start date from from January to March.

NOT LUCK:  Signing a six month lease so I could go abroad in the new year, quitting my job/life, moving halfway across the country to be ready-for-action, having applied for the January position, having free time to do all the paperwork necessary for my visa.

LUCK:  Getting a $12 a day stipend PLUS free housing.

NOT LUCK: Spending hours over the last 4 years scouring websites, fellowships, intercultural exchange programs, and volunteer opportunities.  (I have a spreadsheet--yes, a spreadsheet--dedicated to this which I have been adding to since college...)

LUCK:  Having a brother who will watch your car for you and store your things.

NOT LUCK:  Moving 2,000 miles to where that brother is and getting rid of basically all of your possessions minus your clothing and your vehicle.

Similar situations go for anyone else living abroad.  We are not lucky because we live abroad---we are lucky because circumstances help is along pathways that we are determined to traverse.  In my case, I drive old cars which I can pay off quickly.  I don't own a home.  I've lived with roommates sans one seven month period.  I buy cheap stuff or get it second hand.  I put expiration dates on relationships by prefacing them with "I'm leaving you eventually" and say goodbye to people I love.  I spend months and years in waiting and planning for things.  I don't splurge on fancy clothes or expensive gadgets.  Instead, I free fall into a world of unknown with nothing but my bootstraps and the naive belief of experience that "Everything turn out okay, and when it doesn't---I'll figure it out."

There is nothing lucky about most amazing things which happen in life---it is choice and determination with the added luck of a few people saying, "Do it!" and the irony of useful coincidences serving your purpose.  The preparation and experience are strenuous, trying, and exhausting.  But, along the way, you learn about yourself (more than you might ever want to know.)  You discover who really does support you (often not the people you thought would or think should).  And, at the end of it all, if and when you make it out alive and a better person---that, my friend, is when you stop and think, "Damn....THAT was lucky."

So, what do you do when....

....you come downstairs at the university and there is a sea lion orking and waddling around in the foyer.  If you're a gringa you:

1.)  Squeal with delight and say something outloud like, "Oh my god there's a sea lion in the foyer!!!!"

2.)  Run back to your room to get your camera while still squealing.

3.)  Take a few photos while in a tizzy that THERE'S A SEA LION RUNNING AROUND THE UNIVERSITY!!!!!

4.)  Switch to video mode and narrate that, "THERE'S A SEA LION RUNNING AROUND THE UNIVERSITY!!!!!" while you proceed to sputter out giggly commentary.

5.)  Wonder why it keeps biting its tail and orcking like a mad fiend, but assuming it is because it's lost and disoriented.

6.)  Follow after it filming when it starts to leave the building.

7.)  Realize that it keeps "biting itself" because its flipper has been chopped off and it is biting at the muscle that is protruding from its tail.  Largely protruding...

8.)  Look up and see one of the classes of local students outside staring at you as you're trekking after the hurt sea lion with your camera and a huge grin, not realizing it was injured.

9.)  Shriek and run away when you realize the angry sea lion is turning around and coming after you.

10.)  Run up the stairs, shut off your camera, and realize that instead of a cheesy, giddy gringa you are that JERK that was standing there filming a suffering animal.

11.)  Feel like a terrible person as you slink out the backdoor.

12.)  Feel horribly embarrassed when you then run into the group of students out front still standing there who spotted you making a spectacle out of a wounded creature, albeit unbeknown to you.

13.)  Sleep with one eye open because you're not sure what kind of connections PETA has on this island.

14.)  Learn your lesson to never assume anything---because you know what they say about assuming---it makes an ass out of you and sea lion.

NOTE:  I still have no idea what the sea lion was doing in the foyer, but I think perhaps someone corralled it in there in order to get help for it.  I noticed a few people perhaps "sitting guard" outside.  That, or, I am naive/hopeful/insane and in fact in a painful stupor the sea lion somehow made it up a flight of stairs (yes, sea lions DO trek up stairs) and went crazy in the foyer.  Who knows...

So, I'm going back to school....

Well, since I am not taking a vacation this year (Galapagos is WORK, mind you) and considering my latest life goal is to swim with Great Whites, I have decided to splurge and give myself the gift that keeps on giving---education.  Nope, not my masters.  Nope, no course here at the university.  Despite the fear that my lungs are going to burst right after I get attacked by a shark, I have enrolled with my friend Emilee in diving school to get my PADI Open Water Certification. I had been debating about doing the courses, mainly out of fear of the aforementioned but also the panic of investing money in something that I might not be fit for, but after reading the first page of the textbook in which it said, "With that first underwater breath, the door opens to a different world.  Not a world apart,  but different nonetheless.  Go through that door.  Your life will never be the same."  I stopped, cocked my head to the side, puffed up my chest and realized, "*I* am a traveler.  It's what I do.  The ocean floor is a new world.  I MUST GO THERE AND CONQUER!"

So, I began this evening with an hour and a half of section I and II of the informational videos and will read the book over the course of my long weekend.  Monday, Em and I will return to Jimbo's diving lair (yes, my instructor's name is Jimbo) to watch the rest of the videos before Thursday when we do our first shallow water dive (or attempt to at least).  Despite being snarky about the cheesy acting throughout the film, my heart pounded with nervousness and excitement.  I mean, as I was sitting there, I held my breath while drooling over the underwater scenes on a flat screen with nothing but a remote in my hand.  And, somehow, while being surrounded by fish and water and equipment and magic, I am supposed to remember to "Always keep breathing!"  (Good lord.  I'm screwed already).

I am prepared to read that book not once, but probably twice because OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO FORGET TO BREATHE AND PASS OUT AND THEN A SHARK WILL EAT MY BODY BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE JUST MY LUCK BECAUSE I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE IGNORED THE FOREBODING WARNING I'VE GOTTEN FROM EVERY "SHARK WEEK"I HAVE EVER WATCHED.  Turns out, it is the same terror I encountered when I made the commitment to study abroad and was boarding that plane---sheer terror mixed with panicked exhilaration.  I questioned myself, my abilities, and my decision that entire plane ride.  But, stepping off that plane, I knew it was an adventure into an unknown world, which, at the time, I had no idea would impact the course of my entire life.

Although I do not anticipate that scuba diving will necessarily change my entire life course (unless I start and fail a battle with a Great White), it will open a new door to something I have never before experienced.  And, just as I did from day one in Costa Rica, I will again fumble my way through this, nervous as hell, with the hope that at the end of the day I will come up for air and gasp, "OH.  MY. GOD. I WANT TO DO THIS AGAIN!!!!!"  The only way to find out is to take that plunge....literally and figuratively if you will.  So, here we go....!

So, I bet you wish YOU had a three day weekend like we do in the USA, huh?

Au contraire, amigo mio!  Thanks to the Battle of Pichincha on May 24, the government reassigned the holiday to Friday so there IS a three day weekend (God bless you Ecuador!)  I had no idea about the holiday until one of my students asked me if we had class.  I scoffed and said, "YES!  Why WHOULDN'T we have class?" thinking they were being their usual selves and trying to skip out on Friday.   But, then I was told it was a holiday, that there was a festival, and that one of the university teachers had nicely changed her class from the evening to conflict with my morning class (because unless you're a prominent local or a gringo with a Ph.D. here---you kind of don't matter).  So, I told them I'd check into it.

I asked my colleagues about the holiday, festival, and class change.  They all knew and assumed the gringos had it on their calendar as well, but did not know some university classes were changed as well.  Some thought there might be a festival, but only because we asked and clearly that implied we knew something they didn't.  Some assumed students might still come to night class if we had it or to the activity (our first Friday Film), others thought not.  Some said the holiday lasted all weekend and everything would be closed, others said the city would be reopened by Saturday.  So, without concrete answers and based all on speculation, Emily and I canceled class.  Naturally, some students questioned our decision or didn't know why there was no class, others confirmed that they assumed it would be canceled since I mean, after all, it is this big holiday that everyone seems to know (and clearly not know) about.

Despite the run around, like most things Ecuadorian (or the "give an answer, even if it's wrong because saying nothing is just impolite not to help" mentality) tomorrow is a day off.  While you will enjoy Monday, I will be enjoying a leisurely Friday in my world.  I too am scrambling to get my errands done this week and smiling at the thought of a three day weekend.  So, worlds apart and reasons contrasted, here am I----along with you my USA counterparts---preparing to enjoy the a three day weekend.  Regardless of where we are in this world, that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.

So, name one thing that has surprised you about the island....

Well, among many, one is especially surprising----the Jehovah's Witnesses.  Yep, that's right.  On an island that lives, breathes, and oozes evolution, we have a Jehovah's Witness Hall here.  A religion that, per their official website says, "“There is no publication in the scientific literature—in prestigious journals, specialty journals, or books—that describes how molecular evolution of any real, complex, biochemical system either did occur or even might have occurred. . . . The assertion of Darwinian molecular evolution is merely bluster" springs up on an island that is harder to crack into that a cement nut----I'd say it is pretty interesting that they have a presence AND a hall here.  Catholicism I naturally expect here considering it is the dominant religion of Latin America.  But with regard to this crew, this I have yet to figure things out.

For awhile, I wondered if it was for recruitment purposes to save us from ourselves.  Yet, three months here and no one has come knocking on my door.  I've definitely not seen anyone using a bike helmet while riding much less donning caterer-esque attire while boasting catchy literature.  And, not unlike those sketchy neighbors the Klopeks, anytime I have passed the King Solomon Jehovah's Witness Hall---I see no one go in, and no one come out.  ("Ray, Raaaaaaaaaaaay!")

So, yeah.  The question remains unanswered.  What ARE they, or aren't they, doing on this island?  Is there a secret society of converts who gather in the night to plot the takeover of San Cristobal?  Maybe.  Are they converting the lobos to help with this conquista?  That would be the wise thing to do.  Every time I pass by their hall does it cause me to look puzzled as shake my head and wrack my brain for answers?  Definitely.  We may not have a library, we definitely don't have a movie theater, and frankly we lack electricity a half of the time.  But by god (BY GOD!!!) you bet your asses we're rocking out a King Solomon J-Hall.  So, eat that, C. Dar-LOSE!

So, where is your favorite place on the island?

Yes.  My favorite place.  Well, being literally surrounded by beaches, cliffs, and lookout points that boggle one's mind, easily reminds you of how far from civilization (the civilization that I know that is) you are.  For many people, I anticipate that these are the immediate hotspots and favorites of many; they ARE the reason tourist and non-tourist alike flock to the islands.  For me, I'm different (read: weird) in that my favorite spot on the island is a little non-traditional so-to-speak.  (I know, you're shocked...)  Actually, let me clarify that the following is my favorite spot and could change as there is a lot of the island still left uncharted for me.  Nonetheless, every Saturday morning I walk to the market.  Minus a few Saturdays, the sun is shining and the water is sparkling.  I've come to realize having stood on the lookout points, having laid on the beaches, and having hiked the cliffs that while they ARE amazing, the truth is----my favorite spot is a random segment of street in the middle of town which is situated on the "hill" which appears right after The Charles Darwin Convention Center and Galamaxi (Or is it "Galamarket"...whose genius idea was it to name the two grocery stores the basically the same..???  Ergh.)

Anyway, regardless, it is a city block that overlooks a desolate park, steel girders, concrete blocks, and a substantial amount of trash (A lot of these folks are litter bugs, I say!).  However, when you stop looking down at the grey and grime, you see brightly colored buildings, you see the tops of palm trees even with the shore line, you see the sparkling aquamarine water in the distance, you see everything that you both love and hate about the island.  It speaks to me.  It makes me chuckle every time because it combines nature with the positives and negatives that is humanity.  It encapsulates what Latin American and what Galapagos is all about.  The palm tree smiling, the water dancing, the trash curled up in the bushes, the girders waiting to be more, the people below traversing the streets so ignorant of the reality I see through my eyes.  Well, it is absolutely beautiful.  And, while I do love a good pile of sand to roll around in, this random city block on some random street in the middle of town, well, it IS the epitome of the human experience and the essence of nature's reality all wrapped up in one--it is my favorite.

So, do you ever go a little crazy living on an island?

Um, well, actually no.  Before coming here, I spent two and a half years with intense wanderlust, sending students off to Japan, Costa Rica, Italy, Morocco, and other lovely places around the world.  I worked with students coming from India, Moldova, Bulgaria, Taiwan.  I envied them everyday and surrounded myself with them as much as possible with the hope that their internationalism would rub off on me.  Turns out, my itch was far too strong for simply the hand-me-downs of other travelers.

Currently, living on a 215 square mile landmass of which I have literally traversed at most a ten mile radius from where I live, I am like a pea in a pod.  I feared before coming here that after a few weeks I might begin to feel like a rat trapped in the cage, knowing that there was this huge outside world happening of which I could not be part (as I had felt for the last several years).  But, shockingly, here I am, content as can be.  And yes, I recognize content is easier when you are in a situation with a start and end date.  Nonetheless it is six months of my life which is being lived in basically a five mile radius (unless I trek up to the Highlands which adds the extra five miles, which I've only done once) and for once in a long, long time, I am living day-to-day and moment to moment.

Yes, my mind wanders from time-to-time about what's happening in the world outside and how exciting it will be to go see a movie in the theater and such, but for now the wanderlust has dissolved.  It was not simply the idea of living in another country I was craving, it was living in Latin America where I could speak Spanish, live a slower pace of life, challenge myself daily, transport myself via my legs instead of a car, forego dependence on a cellphone, and try a different profession for once.  I have all of the above.  And, so yes, although I long for feta cheese, hummus, Starbucks, libraries, theaters---right now the only thing crazy about this life is the reality and shock that I AM living on this beautiful island and that, literally and figuratively, it is paradise.

So, is it safe where you live?

Well, let's consider a few things first.  I live on an island of 6,000 people.  I've ended up in the wrong part of town in Costa Rica.  I've driven through Newark, New Jersey at night.  I've been looking over my shoulder since the age of seven when "Unsolved Mysteries" became my fixation.  I have been well-versed on women's safety by mothers, friends, educators.  So, it is safe or dangerous here---it's all relative.  Anywhere can be dangerous and anywhere can be safe depending on the situation you're in and the people who are or aren't around you.

In general, I would actually say that Galapagos is safer than a lot of places considering everyone knows everyone, and if you do commit a crime there are only so many places to run and hide.  Being a gringa, I am immediately a more obvious target because with my stunning good looks (I could be the recipient of the Ugliest Woman Alive Award and still probably get a few whistles because of my blonde hair) and the exotic skin (either modestly pasty or slightly sunburned) that I am probably not familiar with the area and clearly a naive tourist with money (Ha!  Fooled them!)  So, that does make one a little more of a target and a little more alert.

However, there is also the knowledge that if a gringa gets assaulted or god-forbid murdered, it's probably going to be a lot more publicized than if it is one of the locals.  When the tourism dollars put money on the table, you do NOT want the international media reporting the bad business or the Department of State putting a travel warning on your country so by university policy study abroad programs are canceled.  It's just not wise, and these gringos sure run a bigger risk then they are worth sometimes.

So, do things get stolen?  Yes.  Have people gotten attacked?  Yes.  Is it safer than USA?  I don't know.  It is, like everywhere else in this world, just a place where good people and bad people come together and everyone is trying to come out a winner.  Sometimes you win, sometimes you don't; live goes on---well, for those of us lucky enough to survive this shitshow we call life.

So, what's twenty cents worth after all....?

Twenty cents.  The monetary value it's not that much (Well, to some in this world).  But, today, it was much more.  Last night after getting home from a stroll around the 'hood with my favorite gringa, I began to feel it.  You know IT---that slight feeling of "I'm probably going to be sick tomorrow" with the "Oh, yes, it was probably the combination of rotten milk, rotten juice, and rotten chicken stock all of which I gulped and then wretched into the sink within two days."  (When will I learn---smell before you sip!)  I woke up this morning, and my stomach an the feeling of the gurgle lingers.  Oh joy.  So, knowing that I'm going to be down this afternoon until possibly tomorrow night (Gee...glad I procrastinated doing Monday lesson planning and work for Sunday!  GRRR.), I headed for the market so to make sure that at least my cabinet was stocked for the next week.

I arrived at the market which is a twenty minute walk from the university, had finished making my rounds to get everything I needed, and was lugging my usual load--a full backpack with at least two heavy bags on each arm---and I made one final stop to a woman with grabanzo beans to pick up another pound.  (This is the first time I've seen garbanzos at the market...so I decided I had better stock up).  She measured out a pound, and I handed her a five dollar bill.  "Aye, pero no hay sueldo."  ("Oh, but I don't have change.)  Let me take this moment to point out that change on this island is only guaranteed at the two big grocery stores and the bank, and even there you still might walk out with seven dollars in quarters.

I rummaged through my wallet and had a combined $1.30; the garbanzos were $1.50.  She looked at me.  I looked at her.  I told her that was all I had.  She clearly wanted the sale, so told her I would to give her the twenty cents eventually..."Estoy aqui cada Sabado!  Yo regresere por pagarse."  ("I'm here every Saturday.  I will return to pay you.)  She was hesitant for a moment, but then agreed although a little suspicious.  (I mean, clearly she wanted to make the sale but clearly she didn't want to be taken for granted, ESPECIALLY not by a gringa.)

I walked back to the school with my produce, unloaded, and then proceeded to grab a book, because I had to visit the photocopier yet again (four visits, an attached note and verbal clarification/confirmation with two people is clearly NOT enough to get what you need on this island).  I trudged to the island "Kinkos," and reexplained yet again what I wanted.  I stood there, annoyed at the woman who stopped listening because she thought I wasn't understanding her Spanish until I explained THREE times that I understood her and that my way of doing it would make HER job easier---the light bulb eventually finally clicked on.  This isn't the first time logic and efficiency has been mistaken as a communication barrier, me being at fault, of course.

Despite feeling the gurgle of my stomach and wanting to go home, my conscience got the best of me.  I trundled up the hill and stopped at little tienda across the street from the market to by a bar of soap.  It was seventy cents.  I had a ten dollar bill; he had no change.  The sale was moot.  I then had to walk three blocks downhill to another store which usually has no problem giving me change.  I picked up the same bar of soap.  It was seventy-five cents at this store.  I set down my ten and the woman asked me, "Pero usted no tiene sueldo...un dolar?" ("But, don't you have change...a dollar?")  I laughed an exasperated chuckle and literally flipped my wallet over and shook it upside down as I told her no.  She smiled, seeing my obvious insanity, and told me it was no problem.

I picked up my bar of soap, walked back up hill, and entered the market.  I went to the stand of the woman who I was indebted twenty cents to.  I look at her with a "See, here it is" smile, handing her the quarter eager to get home.  She smiled at me and as I turned to walk away, she said, "Espera!" ("Wait!") and beckoned me back as she rummaged for change.  I told her that it was no problem, it was interest.  But, she wouldn't have it.  She rummaged for a few seconds, found five cents, and handed it back to me with a smile.  I smiled back and left the market.

Yes, it was only twenty cents, but in a place where stereotypes about gringos run rampant, communication is muddled, and trust is hard to come by---despite wanting to nothing more than to go to my bed---I spent twenty minutes on the hunt for change while feeling like death so I could show this woman that I wasn't some dishonest gringa taking advantage of her.  And, though she really didn't need the twenty cents either and probably would have liked the extra five, she was going to be damned if that honest gringa was going to let her be anything less than an honest business woman as well.

And now, as I've held up my end of this daily blogging bargain, I'm off to bed....

So, what are a few things you've had to adjust to by living on an island?

Well, there are many things.  One regarding living in the Galapagos specifically is keeping an eye out for sea lions in my walking path---or worse, their droppings.  My flip-flop and I had our first encounter the other night when Em and I were walking on the beach at night in the dark.  (Literally, that shit is hard to scrape off a shoe....)  The sea lions rule this island and we as humans simply live here.  Should there ever be a sea lion revolution or conquista, I'm not sure who would win---the larger brain with opposable thumbs and guns, or an angry mob of barking sea lions which, quite frankly, would scare the hell out of me.  As of yet I've not had a run-on with such a group, but the barking of an angry sea lion momma is enough to stop you dead your tracks and send you in the opposite direction.

Another is the electricity, water, and internet going on and off on a pretty consistent basis.  It's not uncommon to go to use the water and find instead a growling, dry faucet.  This is always a joy when you need to shower after a day of trekking through town and sweating (or simply sitting in the computer lab or any room without a fan blowing 150 mph in your face). When I first arrived, delays had cause me to enjoy ten hours in transit and after trekking through town I was ready for a shower.  I turned on the shower and there was literally a tiny trickle coming from the faucet below the shower head.  I was exhausted, sweaty, filthy, and assumed it would be morning before we had water.  I curled up in a fetal-esque position, desperately cupped my hands, and proceeded to throw tiny handfuls of water at myself while laughing at the irony of it.  After about 20 minutes of trying my patience, I was lathered, rinsed, shampooed, and conditioned.....  I stood proudly in my towel, clean, and ready for bed...!!!  Five minutes later the water came back on.  I immediately changed out of my PJ's, dove for a hot shower, and realized that with everything in life while patience is key,  sometimes instead of learning patience during twenty minute stints of tedious desperation and despair, patience can be better learned in a twenty-five minute period of sitting down and reading a book.  (Then again, it HAS been hours before the water has returned in some cases...)

As for cuisine and products, everything that comes to this island comes on a boat and is in limited quantities and types.  So, unless it's on that boat and in bulk, you're S.O.L.  I needed hairspray---there were literally two options on the entire island (believe me I looked) both of which were the same product with a different label.  Needless to say, I chose one which smelled the least like Aquanet and, as a luxury item, it cost me a whopping $4.  (Yes, $4 is "whopping" when you earn $12 a day and find that it's more like a gel type substance that mattes your hair down and doesn't actually do its intended purpose).  Same goes for food.  Hummus?  You are out of your mind, señor!.  Miracle Whip?  Not unless it's packed in your suitcase, chica!  More than three varieties of any condiment?  That's just crazy talk, amigo!  (Anything that seems "luxury" like Kraft Cheese slices is best avoided because god knows how long it was on the boat and how long it has been on the shelf...plus you'll pay out the nose for disappointment.)

Regarding insects, you'd better love ants (or at least be able to tolerate them) because they are everywhere whether or not you want them.  I set a cup of juice down on the desk in my classroom and twenty minutes later when I went to drink it, it was covered in ants.  They can smell a piece of bread from twenty miles away.  They are worse than Great Whites in an ocean of chum  Oh, but don't be misled---it's not simply reserved for food.  Any foreign object such as my glasses is fairgame.  It's second nature to feel a tickle on your arm, even if you are simply standing there not touching anything, and yep, there he/she is, some tiny little ant trekking along your arm.  I mean, WHERE DO THEY COME FROM?!?!?!  In the end, it really doesn't matter because they are everywhere, they aren't going anywhere soon, and clearly neither am I.

Luckily, Costa Rica broke me in and taught me to "Just scoop from the sugar bowl that has the fewest black specs and then don't look down at your coffee as you drink it."  Like all things frustrating, ants are a fact of life and serve as a good metaphor for island living.  They are here, I am here, and although they annoy the hell out of me some days (like when they are in my bed!), we are co-inhabitants of this island.  And, perhaps at some point in the distant future they too will evolve, they too will have larger brains, and with this evolution of species they will have the ability to speak.  Thus, at least when we are sharing coffee--the conversation will come with it.

So, is there a dress code for work?

Yes, it's pretty strict actually----make sure your swimsuit is clean and that your sarong is not too revealing.  No, but seriously, it's very lax considering what I am used to (My previous office dress code prohibited jeans and/or teachers even though they were permitted by the college).  It's hot as hell in the classrooms, so even in shorts and sleeveless shirts I am usually drenched in sweat, hoping that my class isn't staring at the glaring sweat pattern developing on the back of my shirt.  

The most dressed up I have been is my red sundress with pearl (fake, of course) earrings, and the most dressed down I've been is (Yes, I was totally against ever doing something like this...until I did) was shamelessly wearing a wifebeater (undershirt) tanktop to class.  (In my defense I wore it with a white tanktop underneat so it wasn't transparent and dressed it up with black pants and earrings---oh come on, it was a review session!!!)  Before I departed the good ole US of A, I actually had to go shopping to "dumb down" my wardrobe so to speak because it turns out that on an island where you're sweating bullets, layered with a sandy film, and walking everywhere you need to go, pencil skirts, iron-only shirts, and heels just don't make a whole lot of sense.  Fancy that!

So, how about some good news from your end...

Okay, I get it.  The last few blogs have been a bit Debbie Downer with all this land rights/human exploitation/arrogance/imperialism mumbo-jumbo.  So, you're probably wondering that not only if there there is any good I can make of this or if there is anything positive going on down here in Galapagos.  Actually, yes AND yes.  There are SEVERAL positive things and outcomes happening on this end.

Firstly, let's just say that classes have started again!  Despite the fact my first class was a no-show this morning, which is pretty atypical for these parts or anywhere for that matter (syllabus day at 7am, anyone?)--- today is officially the first day of school.  Yippee!  Yes, this genuinely excites me.  Last night, even though I had literally been working all week and it has only actually been 8 days since I have last been in the classroom, I had "night before school" jitters as my mind ran through ideas, what if's, questions about how the semester would go, who my new students would be, would they like me, what can I do differently as a teacher, how can I improve this go 'round.  Needless today, I am exhausted and it is day one.  But, that's not a bad thing...especially since the weekend is only a few days away.

The other positive exhaustion so-to-speak is a series of projects and extracurricular activities I have been working on with the consent of my boss, the collaboration of my fellow English teacher Em, and with the feedback of student via surveys we gave a few weeks ago.  Firstly, we have an orientation manual, in Spanish, about not only the program, but the expectations of students and teachers, recommendations for studying, resources for practicing English.  Boring, right?  Absolutely.  Useful, however?  We hope!  As I've mentioned to many individuals before, not only are we teaching English here, but teaching in a region with one of the poorest, most defunct academic systems in all of Latin America we are also literally teaching our students how to be students.  (Who would have thought that learning to make flashcards was a privilege and a skill?  Turns out.... ) So, three pages, in Spanish, for the students, with lots of useful tidbits and such.  For those who want to succeed in the program, it will hopefully be a useful guide and beacon of reference.  For everyone else, well, what's another dead tree for the sake of progress, eh?

On the more exciting side of positive things, we have the introduction of Conversation Cafe and Friday Films.  Yay!  Yes, these are two projects I am very excited about which have been in the works since last module.  Conversation Cafe is a weekly gathering of locals and internationals to chat in English.  The reunions will be overseen by a teacher, either myself or Emily, but will be lead by the participants.  Half of the meetings will be at the University for general chatting and such, and the other half will be somewhere in town with specific topics of conversation/discussion such as Public Figures/Leaders, Legal Rights, and Conservation which are themes closely linked to the films we will be watching on Friday Films...which of course, brings me to my next project....

Film Fridays!  Another free event open to the public which is a biweekly showing of movies in English.  We're snagging the projector, Emily is being so kind to provide her adapter and speakers, and we'll be showing fun movies in English on the second floor at the University.  An optional discuss will follow for those who want to stick around.  The first four film include Disney's Hercules, Milk, Oceans, and The Kids Are All Right--all fantastic movies in our opinion.  We wanted to go fun-for-the-whole-family meets social consciousness.  Considering this is the closest to a movie theater this island has, we're hoping for a good turn out.  Plus, you know, with both of these events we can require our students to visit them for homework and do something awesome afterward like....do a write-up.

And, finally, in the proactive mode, I had made an unofficial appointment for Friday to chat with the Director of the Galapagos Science Center Project.  Yes, that's right.  I approached him and asked him if I could sit down and "pick his brain" a bit.  In subsequent, passing conversations I've had with him and have overhead going on among the personnel of this project, it is clear that if this is going to be a "community" structure....someone one with a foot-in-the-door, experience, some language skills, and a direct connection to the students might be able to worm her way in there to fight for her students and friends.  No, I'm not going to go in an accusatory jerk with high expectations, rather I simply want to see if there is anyway on my end I can collaborate with them, my students and the English program to put that building to good use for us since currently it is obviously oriented towards the foreigners.  So, we'll see....

So, yes, aside from that I have been learning an entirely new teaching methodology called TPR which, of course, is a discussion for another day, but it is a more primitive, active style of teaching which has had some really positive results after the pilot last module.  I am VERY excited about it.  More moving, less pressure and writing.  It should be an adventure.  And, even if it does fail, at least I get to do it while putting a little more exercise in my daily routine....

So, how was the inauguration?

It was everything I expected....and more.  Yes, "and more."  Let me preface this entry by admitting I am going to be horribly one-sided, prejudiced, and probably a little staunch myself.  At this point after the anger I felt last night, I really could care less.  I work in a country where minimum wage is $240/month, with students who have to save for years to even think about visiting my country, where gringos trot in and out disrespectfully, and on an island where at the " richest"academic institution in the country I have to FIGHT to even get markers and erasers to use on the whiteboards for my English classes.  So, yes, I may be either extremely close-minded or extremely open-minded.  Either way, despite being "outsider," I know my community more intimately than say any USA Congressman or Vice Chancellor trotting in here to cut a piece of ribbon to inaugurate this magical structure of equality.

So, let's see the scene, which I alone find hilarious.  My colleague and I walk in.  It's 40-60 something gringos---not surprising considering the nature of the event.  I am in a $28 cotton Old Navy sundress and flip flops which in a run-on with a local earlier, she looked at me and commented, "Wow!  Everyone is getting dressed so elegantly for this event!"  (Yes, island elegance is something in itself).  The gringos are seated, and there are about four latinos in site.

Twenty minutes after the program is scheduled to begin finally and naturally the latinos begin to trickle in.  (I mean, hi, punctuality is not strongly emphasized in latino culture).  As I observed the crowd, I told my colleague that at any moment I was waiting for a woman who looked like she'd trotted out of the country club to turn and in a loud, slow voice say to one of my Ecuadorian colleagues, "I...LOVE...YOUR....PEOPLE.  SUCH...HARD...WORKERS!  I...LOVE....THE....CINCO....DE....MAYO....ALSO!"  (For those of you who don't know, Cinco de Mayo is a USA construct that has NOTHING to do with South America especially.)  As the seats are already filled, all of the latinos stand in the back while the gringos sit in front in their J-Crew sailor tops whispering back and forth while expelling "bahaha" laughter at the witty introductory remark which was the gringo director of the project saying, "I SHOULD have learned more Spanish..."

You're right, you should have learned a more Spanish.....which brings me two my next point.  The translator.  Yes, there was a translator on-site because, naturally, with two languages----it was necessary.  Only, truth be told, the only speakers who weren't bilingual (sans one of six Ecuadorians who spoke) were naturally the USA folk.  When a witty comment was made in English, the majority of the room laughed, whereas when a witty comment in Spanish was made the volume of laughter decreased noticeably.  But, yes, I admit I AM being a bit harsh here on my USA counterparts because it is NOT easy to learn Spanish---I've been practicing for years and sometimes still feel like I can't even blurt out a phrase correctly.  Yet, nonetheless it is a reflection on my CULTURE, because here the students begin learning a second language from day one in grade school and it is required to get most adequately paying jobs here.  So, yes, I get it....it's too late to learn Spanish and obviously you have been busy with this massive undertaking.  However, at the least, my god, at least TRY, TRY, TRY to learn ONE phrase or, heck, I don't know---how to even CORRECTLY pronounce the name of the Island you are on and the city you are currently in.  (Shout out to you Mr. Congressman and everyone else who mispronounced the island name!)  Gerf.

The speeches commence.  There are literally thirteen speakers.  All of the speeches are given in English or Spanish, and then translated.  My.  God.  Do these people know where they are?  This isn't how we roll in my 'hood.  If you're talking too long, your students or the people let you know...especially, if you are standing there repeating THE EXACT SAME THING IN 13 DIFFERENT WAYS.  Nonetheless, I nestle in, breathing deeply, convincing myself that perhaps I will be pleasantly surprised by what these individuals have to say.  I'm surprised alright, but in that, "Oh.  My.  God.  Keep.  Your.  Mouth.  Shut.  Vocasek" kind of way.  The USA folk, of course, mention how this island is in danger!  The flora and fauna are being destroyed!  Why yes, dear friends, nature IS being destroyed by things like, I dunno---a wood paneled eyesore which not only pulled the "eminent domain" card for some of the locals/some how got the go ahead to build on land whose ownership was still being disputed/on an island which doesn't allow foreign enterprise.  I am SURE this structure will do wonders for the flora and fauna of the National Park which is literally a one minute walk away as well as the for the local economy and people.  (*Breathe, Vocasek.*)

They continue talking about how wonderful it is that the local Ph.D.'s can do their research here.  Really?  REALLY?  What local Ph.D.'s are we talking about because this institute is a two year college and anyone do a doctoral program, much less a masters or bachelors for that matter, has to go to the mainland.  The only Ph.D.'s floating around this island are....bum-bum-bum the foreign imports.  I.e. You guys.  Fancy that.

Everyone continues to talk about how this is NOT just a facility for the USA institution and the USFQ (Universidad San Fransciso de Quito) personnel, but this is a facility for the community, the citizens of San Cristobal.  Really?  Really.  Hmph.  Because, of the 50-some people here, there are about ten actual citizens of San Cristobal which is including the mayor, governor, and three university employees.  In fact, as I learned shortly thereafter, the local students were sitting down below waiting for class to start not realizing, as no one had bothered to tell them, that class was canceled for this Staunch Glory Party.  No one I know and spoke with from the community had any idea this was going on, much less were invited.  In fact, I actually had to ask one of the gringos what day and time the inauguration was because no one on this campus seemed to know.  (Then again, this might be the fact we don't care because clearly this isn't actually our facility.)

I sat there, continuing to wonder things like where were the construction workers (who were imported, so no, not even jobs were given to the local people) who had literally been working from 6am until 6pm (11pm during the last few weeks) seven days a week to construct this elegant (*barf*) structure.  Oh, I knew where they were...they had to stay down below in their quarters until the reception was over.  Not that they would have necessarily WANTED to sit through the speeches or given a crap, but I felt like if anyone deserved a thank you, praise, a nice meal and a jazz band (yeah, a jazz band....very much the local flavor *rolls eyes*), it was probably more so the people that had been exploited for well over a year who were sleeping in bunk beds in the cement walls of the basement versus those who trotted down on first class air and were staying at the most expensive hotel on the island.  I mean, truth be told, when I've asked local students what they think about the building, it's a very nonchalant response of, "I mean, it's nice.  It's not for us, but it's nice, I guess" trying to be cordial.  Realistically, they are quite indifferent to it at all knowing that obviously, it's for the foreigners, or upset because they understand the true meaning of the controversy behind it.

Another woman got up there to speak about how wonderful it was that there was a new summer study abroad program which would bring fifty more students to USFQ this summer and then even more with the addition of new programs once the facility was totally complete.  Oh, yippee!!!  Did anyone our groundskeeper/cook/cleaner/everything man whose home was bulldozed and who already literally works seven days a week from 5am until 10pm at night?  I sure hope the memo got put on his desk and new personnel were hired.  Oh, good.  Not necessary to hire more people?  Of course not, his family can help out and work here too---for free.  Whew.  *Wipes brow.*  My question is----is any of the money that will be made off these study abroad programs because who are we kidding---study abroad is a source of revenue (I would know after four years in the business) going towards SCHOLARSHIPS for MY students to study abroad in YOUR country as we collaborate and celebrate this merger of cultures and forging of international friendship.  No?  Oh.  Okay.  Just my Ecuadorian students/friends/colleagues housing and feeding and cleaning up after your students?  Oh goodie!

I would say the major point of disgust was when the USA Congressman got up there (yes, we were so lucky), and after butchering the name Puerto Baquerizo Moreno of course (it is actually pronounced P-where-toe Backer-eezo More-eh-no, not a mumbled bastardized version of god-knows-what) mentioned that now that his district was sister cities with San Cristobal and had a firm academic partnership with the islands, it would be wonderful if it would now open doors to more economic partnerships.  There it was....he said it---and more than once.  Of course!  Why NOT now that we have our enterprising foot in the door with this academic institution would we NOT expect that we're going to bring trade in as well.  I mean, my people here can trade so many things with all the factories and crafts and um, well, yeah....  Oh wait, no---we don't manufacture ANYTHING here.  We import everything---we are an island with limited resources.  Our commerce is TOURISM and fishing to a small extent which, when it is fruitful, is enough to feed the islands.  So, what, Dear Congressman, exactly are WE on this end exactly going to export?  Precisely.  Nothing.  Pack your Panama Jack hat, your McDonalds, your KCF (We already have GFC for your information sir!---not kidding!!!), your Walmart, your Starbucks, and please get off this island; your Tommy Bahama Cologne is disturbing the iguanas.

As the program continued, my team garnered a few laughs and victory points.  When the first cellphone rang, I immediately looked to the crowd and saw all of the USA'ians tense up and give side glances of, "Oh my! WHO forgot to turn their cell phone off for such a momentous, glorious occasion!?!?!"  When the second one went off, there was a little tension and a few less side glances.  By the eight or ninth cell phone ringing (all locals, of course, because this is how we roll here on the isla, yo!) and after half were answered in the middle of the speech (Go, Galapagueños!), the gringos were clearly annoyed but less "side glance-ish."  I found it comical that the comment the USA'ian made about it in his speech was translated to Spanish without an accusatory or condescending tone as compared to the context that he'd spurted it out with.  As for the locals, they didn't seem to notice or care the about the phones ringing because turns out----this may be YOUR building, but this is THEIR stomping ground ("our stomping ground" actually since I live here and at this event I was one of the university personnel who was pushed around, ignored, and not actually formally invited to the event.

I must admit I did not actually make it through to the end of the speeches and actual ribbon cutting.  I, despite what I know of polite society and proper professional behavior, got up about two speeches from the end and walked out.  Rude?  Perhaps.  Warranted?  Absolutely.  The truth of the matter was that I could no longer stay and listen to this banter from my North American counterparts be blown up my ass and the asses of my friends/colleagues/community about how this facility would save the island and would alleviate the social and demographic problems here.  (I mean, there were several times where references were made to this being "The only facility/project like this in the entire world!"  Oh, please.)  Yes, gringos, you HAVE  "saved this place" by constructing on a National Park, offering no financial assistance or access to the local students while undoubtedly increasing revenue from your study abroad programs, kicking local people out of their homes, unknowingly and knowingly exploiting Ecuadorian workers, tromping in here with a badge of heroism, creating a fantastic workspace for YOUR staff/faculty/students, and informally propositioning free trade agreements.  Yes, you HAVE left quite a mark.

As I look back at the only upside to the ceremony, I keep hearing the words for the local Ecuadorian project boldly saying in his speech, "I don't want this to be a facility where the locals wash the windows for the foreigners sitting inside doing their research."  Yes, Diego, I agree.  I agree completely, totally, and utterly.  Yet, as I sat there, looking at the pale skinned creatures which surrounded me in their Talbots and Nordstrom trousers thinking about the construction workers literally stowed below in the basement and my colleagues who were upstairs already preparing breakfast for these folks for the next day, I really couldn't help but acknowledge the reality of the situation.  Although no squeezies and Windex were being used anywhere that I could see, the fact of the matter was that windows were already being washed, and had been washed, by my compañeros, but not with windex, rather their dignity, pride, and homeland.  My immigration documents say North American but in my heart I felt Ecuadorian.  And, deep inside, I felt not only great sadness---but betrayal.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I would like to take this moment to acknowledge that the exploitation of workers and land rights does not solely rest on the shoulders of the North American entities, rather the local and national Ecuadorian entities as well who have voluntarily neglected their own people and homeland.  I cannot absolve myself of alleviating this burden as there are many times when I have opted to go lay on the beach/blog/nap when I could have easily picked up a hammer and helped my fellow compañeros.  Or not.  But, in theory---you understand.  I would like to reiterate that we are all responsible for events and instances such as these.  And I myself, instead of standing up at that Inauguration and voicing my opinion well knowing I would get fired and screw myself professionally in the eyes of the USA academic community--kept my mouth shut, pasted a smile on my face, and slunk quietly out the backdoor.  I allowed and allow exploitation to happen.  I allowed and allow it to go unnoticed.  And, I above all, did and do nothing.  I am my own worst enemy, and I am a hypocrite.  Thank you.)

So, what do you think about the new facility?

Yes.  That's the question I KNOW I will be asked today, especially considering I was just approached by a photojournalist who informed me he would like to interview me later.  Today is the inauguration of the new research lab which has been in construction for the last year.  Yes, it's done.  Well, in theory...still missing desks and things, but interior and exterior of the facility itself are said to be finished.  The building which has spurned the screeches, crunches, and howls of saws which awake me at 6am every morning, the gringa-hungry stares of construction workers which greet me a mere 10 feet from my bedroom door every morning/noon/night, and a controversy which is shrouded in high fives by those ignorant of what it means or has meant to the people of Galapagos....yes, it is FINALLY done.

So, what do I think of the new facility?  Well, it's great....a new state-of-the art building (Well, state-of-the-art in the context of Galapagos) which will enable researchers from around the world access to one of the world's most fascinating biospheres and land masses.  I mean, what bad can come of the creation of more classrooms, a more technologically enhanced and enabled infrastructure, and an increase in scientific instruments which were seriously lacking.  I mean, personally I love the fact that its inauguration and construction has lead to small renovations within the school such as repainting, replacing light bulbs in the bathrooms which had previous been pitch-black, and a massive cleaning which was well-needed.  It has also lead to the instigation of future renovations such as repairing holes where rain pours into our classrooms, the creation of a more integrated public space for students, and probably new books for the meager library.  Hurrah!

But, per my usual, I DO have a few questions regarding it....

• How is it that a USA enterprise hidden under the guise of a university was able to creep its way into an area that is not only protect by Ecuadorian law but is also a national park?
• Who signed off on the okay to bulldoze a colleague's home in order for this place to be built, and what consolation prize was this person given in exchange for losing his home other than a one room bedroom at the university for he and his family?
• Who is going to work here considering the job description is well above the academic training and work experience that is available to basically nay native of this island?
• Who is going to be not only translating all of the research into Spanish but translating it into plain language for the locals so they can use all of this great output?
• What happens to this island and the people who call it home when science finds its newest cure or they decide exactly how "detrimental" the people are to one or all of the species living here?
• When push comes to shove and X pisses off Y, who actually has control of this building, us or them, and can local students and professors be guaranteed access?
• Whose tuition dollars are going up to provide security, personnel, repair, and maintenance?
• What happens now that the precedent has been set that it is okay for USA enterprise to enter the island and someone else wants to set up a new school/facility/business?

Don't get me wrong.  I'm not hating on science or this facility BY ANY MEANS.  I think it is an amazing and wonderful thing, and I love the idea of having a new facility for educational purposes; it is something fantastic.  (God knows the tuition of the local students would never be enough to fund a facility such as this).  And, if the cure to cancer or some horribly atrocious disease IS sitting on this island, then hell yes I would probably selfishly sellout every species and person on this island to avoid seeing one of my loved being slowly eaten by some horrible disease.

But, that time is not now and the devil not standing at my door with that offer... What I DO know right now is that when I have constantly seen this bullshit throughout Latin American history where the USA tromps in and the local higher-ups, in an attempt to put a notch on their belt say, "Yes, welcome!" while the local people stand by bewildered and unaccounted for---I sure don't fucking like it.  (Yes, excuse my French but these issues evoke a little bit of emotion within me).  Perhaps I AM snobbishly and naively throwing my five years of academic training/research and second time of living in the region in everyone's face (Yes, how dare I!!!), and I don't actually know anything at all.  Or, perhaps I am simply acknowledging that maybe I DO know a thing or two about how this happens and the frequency that it does occur, especially considering that I interact with the people every day and have actually ASKED their opinion. (Novel idea, no?)

The fact of the matter is, the USA has the money, we have the power, and no matter how pure our intentions are, we NEVER do something purely intrinsic.  It is human nature, and I accept the fact that I am no different.  If this was some impoverished village in the boonies of Guatemala where it rained daily and there were mosquitoes the size of horses, I can't say that I would have jumped on board with the idea of spending the next six months here.  But, again, I AM here.  And, I AM the observer of a controversial situation.  And, when push comes to shove right now and I have to pick between the side of the bewildered, homeless latino standing there saying, "What good does this do for me?" and the staunch foreigner standing there screaming in full volume in English (because, you know---shout a foreign language slowly and it is easily understood by people who don't speak it) "Look what we did.  We're heroes!!!" while patting himself on the back---well, what can I say....I'm a schmuck for the underdog and downtrodden.

So, Mr. Reporter Photojournalist Man, what do I think of the new facility?  "I think it has brilliant prospects for the academic world."  However, until the passage of time tells me that end has in fact justified the means, I'll be here, eating the reception cake, superficially smiling, keeping my opinions to myself, and waiting to see what happens....just like any good employee would.

(DISCLAIMER: I am a proud USA citizen and neither Anti-American, Anti-USA, unpatriotic, or Anti-This-Facility or this university.  I am someone who lives here, speaks the the local language, and would like to believe those five years of studying my ass off in college were NOT completely in vain.  I also acknowledge that I DON'T know all of the facts, politics, nuts and bolts that went along with the construction of this facility nor do I pretend to.  I am simply someone with open eyes, open ears, and an open heart that, in whatever form it comes, does not like to see well-intentioned people, ideas, or projects the victim of injustice.  So, please, by all means, prove me wrong and the ignorant, uneducated fool--in cases such as this I'd welcome it.  Thank you.  Oh, and please, let me keep my job also.)

So, do you ever get sick?

*Cackles.*  I mean, I live in a land where one of the packing considerations is how much pepto you can legally enter the country with (I'm surprised it's not on the Customs Declaration Form by now), drinking the water can land you in the hospital, and milk is not pasteurized.  So, do I and have I gotten sick?  Yes, of course.

Today, for example, I woke up at 5am with a bloated stomach and felt like I had eaten a pack of razor blades.  Unlike the USA where you would probably wonder what it was you ate, my immediate reaction was, "Oh crap....I have parasites!"  Yes, glamorous.  I eventually fell back asleep and then later tried to down breakfast which was successful and then unsuccessful.  The day was spent in a haze of naps and trundling upstairs for water refills and glamorous meals of.....bread and apples.  (Well, that or I'm on the college student meal plan again).  Nonetheless, this is the second time I've logged this particular routine.  The perpetrator?  Who knows.  Anything really.  A pear you didn't wash well enough, the cheese from breakfast, I mean---really, anything can do it, especially when you have an immune system that doesn't exactly have the best track record for being topnotch.

Another fun one I've encountered is the rotten-milk-nausea routine.  Yes, this has been the result of more than once unsuspectingly slurping up acrid milk.  Despite immediately spitting it out and rinsing my mouth like crazy to rid the foul flavor and hopefully avoid the impending doom, two days pass and I find myself with insane nausea which again lands me in bed for the rest of the day.  It's lovely.  Or not.  Yet, the plus side of getting ill, however, it is that usually within 24 hours it clears up and before you know it you're back in the game....thanking God, Dios, Allah, Jehovah, or whatever you do or don't believe in for health that is 95% of the time--pretty damned good.

So, what's a typical Friday or Saturday night out like?

The thing I love about foreign countries and big cities is the use of public spaces.  I love that homes are for sleeping and cooking while parks and plazas draw people out in droves.  Chances are your piso (apartment) isn't huge, so you don't necessarily throw dinner parties or fiestas---you go out.  And, unless you are sick or for some reason needing solace, you are crazy to be sitting at home when the world is buzzing around you.  (I think this also is tied to cultural trends of conformity and community versus individuality and independence).

That being said, Friday and Saturday nights out definitely have a solid routine.  Everyone starts off at the Malecon (the commercialized waterfront).  When businesses shut down, people are out walking, chatting, eating, drinking.  People perch on the curb, benches, or in the open aired restaurants which all overlook the water.  The social experience for someone age 16-35, of course, begins with a stop by the liquor store (La Pirata is our liquor store of choice) for your favorite brew.  And, because no one necessarily wants to be chugging from the same bottle or sharing the same mixer, cups are always provided free of charge.  Yippee!

So, once equipped with said beverage (ours is coña which is for another post), you nestle in somewhere comfortable, which in our case is a bench in the middle of the Malecon which directly overlooks the water such that there are sea lions orcking right below you...or right next to you.  The booze is opened, drinks are mixed, and stories are shared.  Round about 11:00pm, we head for the bar which is, as everyone knows, Iguana Rock.  Iguana Rock is sports bar meets college bar meets gringo bar where locals and foreigners come to play pool and share a beer.  It's guaranteed that anyone you want to hang out with will be there.  You can't go in without seeing at least someone you know.  If you're in the mood, you can hit the small dance floor which is equipped with a tropical Hawaiian breeze machine which spritzes coconut scented mist and boasts a disco ball.  (Yes, it is as glamourific as it sounds.)

Once everyone is adequately boozed and the conversation winds down, you know time it is?  That's right....it's La Isla time, yo, which is to say---it's clubbin' time.  For the low cost of $1 (or free if you can play the gringa-card or know the doorman) you can enter into yet another disco paradise which is an expanded version of Iguana's dance floor.  This magical land is fog machine meets disco ball meets lazer light show meets fist-pumping action.  Your dance pants had BETTER be on because tonight, tonight's gonna be a good, good night.  Go big or go home.  That's the magic of La Isla.  Once you're in.....you're IN.  And, you're not going home until the sun comes up.....or the bar closes at 2am anyway.

So, what's your social network like?

By this point in the game of living on my own and abroad, I realize the reality and the challenges there are of breaking into the social system of not only a small town but a land where not only do your skin, hair color, and immigration status identify you as an outsider.  This can be both a positive and a negative thing---positive because people recognize you are new and will often times be willing to help you; negative because they recognize you're not one of them and most likely just like all the rest of those pasty foreigners trucking around shouting English at them in a slow voice.

That being said, making friends while abroad is a positive experience in that regardless of your situation you will make both local and foreign connections.  While abroad you're bound to meet other foreigners who are in the exact same boat as you.....thousands of miles from home without a familiar soul within their immediate surroundings until, of course, you meet them and they meet you.  Assuming you're of a similar breed of people, which considering there's a certain quality involved with jumping on a plane and starting life over in a place far, far from home---bonds are foraged immediately.

The best way I can describe these types of relationships is that it is like your freshman year at college when your parents have left you at the dorms.  You're disoriented, you're overwhelmed, you're new, you're trying to muddle through, but the good news is-----everyone is in the boat, it is either sink or swim, and thus you do that together.  The truth is no matter how well-traveled you are, there is a certain sense of vulnerability, and of course, being human, there is a need to make social connections.  So, the type of friendships that might take months or even years to forge in the USA will be forged in a series of weeks while being abroad.  Some of my best friends today are people I met while studying abroad in Costa Rice as well as foreigners I met while living abroad in Spain.  No matter how long we go without talking....it's just a given that there's a hot cup of tea and a comfortable sofa to crash on regardless of where either of you are in this gigantic, small world we live in.

As for friendships with the locals, firstly bear in mind most of the local people have their groups of friends established and are easily at a different place in their lives as I am and have had vastly different experiences.  Living in countries where being blonde and pale skinned is an exotic commodity, male friends are risky because often the ones who express interest in spending time with you have an alternative motive.  With the local females, sometimes you are a risk or a threat because they don't want their wide-eyed husbands or boyfriends looking in your directions, so it is better to keep you on the outskirts.  Likewise, in my case here, the marrying age here is about 21 or 22 after they've had their first baby, of course, so for someone my age, cultural background, and my social situation---it's a whole different life ballpark.  Plus, it's a small town, so people who would share the same dreams as you of the amazing outside world often times leave.  So, it's more the settlers who stick around.  (Being a settler isn't a bad thing at all, it's just harder to relate when you're at different places in life).

Secondly, the avenues for making friends with people aren't necessarily the same route you would go about as if you were in the states, especially considering I live in a small town where people and resources are limited.  There's not a local book club to join, Meetup Groups don't exist, volunteering is usually more structured and solitary if it is a part of the local scene....  Other routes you would use, such as your colleagues, are often older than you and going about their lives, so those can often be a fluke.  So, getting an "in" somewhere can be challenging in most cases.

Thirdly, 90% (or more) of the foreign people coming through are tourists.  So, naturally, most people are going about their business thinking that you're just one of the many who come in swarms to get your "I heart boobies" shirt which boasts a blue-footed bird.  Plus, because the strongest friendships you usually form are with people in the same boat as you, it can be a little intimidating to approach a pack of gringos/gringas chatting in English as they traipse down the street.

So, as I am a person who isn't really into superficial friendships, I would say that my closest friends are in fact exclusive to the few gringa teachers who I share the island with (Currently Emilee, previously Liz who sadly left last weekend, and hopefully in a few weeks Katie the new/old English teacher who I met in Quito when I arrived).  Per "in the same boat" situation as well as proximity and likeness in job description, we have lots of reasons to interact (ie: breakfast, teaching, being next door neighbors) and lots of things in common (Emilee being from Lawrence, Katie being from New York, Liz having the same name and having traveled to Thailand) so naturally we become friends very quickly.

However, because I consider these my closest friends, that doesn't mean I don't have other social acquaintences and friends who I chatter up with when I'm out.  I know a good number of people.  It's a given that in a town of 6,000 people anytime I head into town I'm going to run into someone I know.  At times I've hung out with my students outside of class when we run into each other on the beach, at the bar, or on the Malecon.  Or, there are also foreign volunteers or wives here who I've come to know via mutual friends.  So, even though I may not have a network in the same sense that I would somewhere where I was well established, it is a unique type of network where most people are open and willing to make a friend or two.

So, the moral of the story is....do I have friends?  Yes.  Do I have a local Ecuadorian bestie? No.  Do I lament this?  Now that I understand why things are the way they are and that it is oft by choice (I'm not one who can force myself to be friends with someone JUST BECAUSE), I'm okay with it.  Could I have an Ecuadorian bestie if I tried more?  Perhaps.  But, judging by my past experiences and the small town and close-knit attitude here, it is nothing to take personally and can often times be more disappointing than rewarding.  I may not necessarily consider one of my colleagues or the school groundskeepers or others I've met while out my best friends for life, but I know that if and when the shit hits the fan---someone, of some nationality, in some form, and of some language will be there to hold the tissues and pat my hand as the unimaginable happens, and per usual, passes.