Casas Abiertas (Open Houses)

Christmastime open houses of two kinds occurred on Saturday.

The first took place at Agrogana (the flower plantation where I work weekly with my group of young English learners).  Over two hundred plantation workers and their families gathered to watch their children present songs, readings, and skits that reflected the learning they'd done in their respective after-school classes.  Most of these people came from the rural outlying areas that surround Latacunga, and the odors, colors, and voices in the auditorium yesterday morning spoke to the array of backgrounds represented there.  It was a long, tedious program with very little structure or flow (normal for Ecuador, nearly intolerable for me) in which the singing childrens' voices were swallowed by the tinny blare of recorded accompaniment and careful recitations of memorized verses were drowned by the din of constant conversation.  With that said, it should be noted that these families and their children - some as young as four years old - observed (or at least were physically present for) the entire program.  The auditorium was filled to capacity with proud expressions, hand-me-down outfits reserved for Sundays, callused hands and weathered faces. 

My group of exceptional humans had prepared a photographic presentation that, unfortunately, proved to be too complicated for the occasion.  During our last few class sessions, my scholars had learned about Haiku and the presence of the five senses in this form of poetry.  Their final implementation of this knowledge involved the composition of their own English Haiku in which they expressed their perceptions of the idea of home.  They then used my camera to take photographs that somehow related to the ideas expressed in their poems.  I prepared slideshow, we procured a projector, and in the end the prohibitive factor was the absence of an extension cord that could accommodate a three-pronged power cord.  No one was disappointed.  No one but me, that is.

Enthusiastic songsters.

Saturday's second open house took place in my apartment in Latafabulous.  Of the forty people I invited, less than half came to my Christmas cocktail party.  This was fine with me.  I had simply hoped to share some good food and conversation with the people who have shared so much with me since my arrival in their country.  The people who were able to attend filled my little home with laughter and warmth and dancing and it was absolutely perfect.  My Ecuadorian guests claimed they had never attended a party of this kind (complete with ties on boys and dresses on girls, a constant flow of delicious party snacks, too much wine, and Jell-o shots).  I had been in desperate need of a dance party, and I was happy to learn that my Ecuadorian professor friends and fellow Fulbrighters shared similar sentiments.



My eyes were closed in every photo taken, which is not an indication (I don't think) of anything other than bliss.  Note the wide age range of the invitados.  That little girl turned down all my invitations to dance.  She was out of my league.

Marcia and Edison, the handsome and incredible owners of this house.  Also my adopted Ecua-parents.



Raaj and Kim, two valued members of Team Fulbright.





Gaby (Marcia and Edison's younger daughter) and her kiddos, who also live upstairs.



Jorge (George) and Marco, two English professors at the Universidad Tecnica de Cotopaxi.

Happy.



Still.  Very happy.

  
Although far away from places and people I usually associate with the word home, it was made clear on Saturday that "home" can be just about anywhere where hugs and sincere words are shared.  In these final days of the holiday season, I wish you all the best.

Eat too much, drink too much, and give away more smiles than you think is necessary. 

All my love,

C. Brown

Bicicleta

A little over a week ago I bought a bicycle. 

One block down from my house, there is a collective of storefronts that, during business hours, overflow with bikes, most of which are surprisingly not for sale.  The same workers are there every day, tinkering with grimy hands, welding without masks and making repairs without fancy tools.  I bought my new bike from Jorge, a sweetheart of a man who wears blue overalls and an alpaca scarf.  I bought it for $50 and chose it mostly for the color scheme.  And it has changed my life here in Latacunga.  My commute to the university is now fifteen minutes instead of forty.  The skinny one-way cobblestone streets suddenly make more sense than they do when I walk.  I can move faster than the cars through the constant traffic congestion.  It is, for lack of a better descriptor, awesome.

Happy Nina.