Site Assignment Week!

Ok, so two weeks ago was site assignment week. Site assignments are exciting because they determine where in the country we will spend our two years of service. Since Ecuador has such a diverse landscape, our chances of sweating on the coast were just as good as our chances of chasing cows in the mountains and almost as good as our chances of trying worms in the jungle. Everyone was understandably anxious. The actual revelation of our sites was fun because everyone sat on the benches and the trainers formed a tunnel that we could run through NFL style. As each person’s name was called they would stand up, one of the trainers would yell out which city and provenance they were moving to, and we would all cheer as they ran through the tunnel. Though 88 percent of the time we had no idea where that person’s city actually was, we still cheered. We were just excited to be getting this part of the process over with.

Peace Corps prohibits me from blogging about the exact location of my site, but I can say that it is beautiful, warm, and right on the beach in the provenance of Manabí. Two days after receiving our site assignments, we were all in buses headed our separate ways for a 4 day site visit. On my way to Quito, I called my new counterpart (boss) just as the PC had instructed us to, in order to tell her I was on my way. My counterpart’s secretary picked up the phone and I quickly realized how unprepared I was for the coastal accent. The following conversation ensued:

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Jennifer Eik from Peace Corps, may I speak to Martina?”

“Blah?”

“Um, I am on my way to Manabí, will someone be there to get me?”

“Ah, ok. You blah blah.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get that.”

“Martina is out of town. Do you need blah blah?

“Umm…yes?”

“Ok, great. Bye now!”

“Bye….”

I hung up the phone and just sat there for a minute. Were they going to meet me at the bus terminal? Had she understood that I would arrive tomorrow morning? Should I call back and try again? What the hell language do they speak on the coast? I decided to just relax and try it again when I got closer.

The bus rides to the coast lasted about 10 hours in total, and I arrived to Manabi around 7 am Sunday morning. It didn’t seem that there was anybody there for me. I knew I had to give this phone convo thing another shot. This time I decided to try my host mother, Agustina. This conversation went a little bit better.”

“Hello?”

“Hi, the is Jennifer from the Peace Corps.”

“Oh hi! How are you? Are you here?”

“Yes.” I said with a sigh of relief that I could actually understand what she was saying. “I am across the bay.”

“Ok, I am working at the market. Can you get here?”

“Uh, I don’t really know how…”

“That’s ok, its very easy. I’ll give you directions. Are you ready?”

I had nothing to write with.

“Yes.”

“Ok, from the bus terminal you are going to have to walk to the street and find a taxi. Ask the driver to take you to the dock. Go down, grab a lifejacket, and get on a boat. It should only cost you 30 cents. They will try to charge you more because they will see that you are not from here, but only pay 30. After you get off of the boat, look for a tricimoto and ask to be taken to the market. When you get to the market, look for a young girl in a blue shirt. You’ll know its her if she says she works with Abuchita, that’s my nickname. Anyways, go with her and she will take you to me. Ok?”

It was not ok.

“Sure.”

“Alright! See ya soon!”

Easy? Those instructions seemed everything but easy to me. I felt like I was in Mission Impossible. I A) did not feel prepared to argue with the boat drivers about the price of my boat fare, B) had no idea what a tricimoto was, and C) had already forgotten my host mother’s nickname and didn’t know who to ask for in the market.

Once a taxi had dropped me off at the dock, I walked down, gabbed a lifejacket, and sat down next to a nun on the motor boat. The nun and I made eye contact and smiled at each other. I took 30 cents out of my pocket and clutched it in my fist. Once the boat had filled up, a man in his early 20’s came around to collect the money. When he got to me he held up five fingers as if to say ‘fifty.’ I handed him the 30 cents I had ready. He shook his head and said, “fifty.” Remembering my host mother’s warning and frustrated, I looked over at the nun. Surely this woman of God would speak up. The nun avoided eye contact and looked in the other direction. I mentally took back the smile that the nun and I had exchanged as I handed the man another 20 cents.

Once I arrived on my side of the bay, I saw a long line of young men standing in front of these motorcycles with brightly colored wooden carriage-like things attached. The tricimoto. All of the men attempted to get my attention so that I would chose their tricimoto. I walked up to the one that appeared to be the least sketchy.

“To the market?” I asked.

“Lets go.” He replied.

I hopped in the back and within minutes we arrived at the market. I got a little nervous because I knew I had to find a girl in a blue shirt, but couldn’t remember my host mother’s nickname. I glanced around and zeroed in on a young girl in a bright blue shirt and matching shorts sitting on the steps of the entrance to the market. I hoped that I had the right girl as I approached her.

“Hi.” I said awkwardly.

“Hi. Are you with Abuchita?” She asked.

Abuchita! That was it!

“Yes, I’m Jennifer.”

“Welcome! Nice to meet you!”

I was introduced to my host mother who had a stand at the market. She instructed me to come back and asked me what kind of coffee I would like. When I replied that I didn’t drink coffee, everyone within 14 feet of us stopped and gave me a weird look.

“You don’t like coffee?”

I thought about just lying and accepting the coffee to avoid this uncomfortable exchange. I then thought about how I didn’t want to have to choke down coffee for the next three months. I had to stay firm.

“No, I’m not much of a coffee drinker.” I laughed uncomfortably.

“Look, for coffee we have pig, chicken, or cow. You don’t like any of those?”

Now I was confused.

“Coffee?” I asked pretending to drink an imaginary cup.

“Oh! Haha! No!” My host mother laughed. Everybody else giggled too. “Breakfast!” She exclaimed.

“What would you like for breakfast?”

“Ah!” I laughed too thinking about the fact that I had just said that I didn’t like breakfast.

“Chicken would be fine, thank you.” I said, making a mental note that coffee meant breakfast on the coast.

After breakfast my host mother told me her daughter-in-law and some friends were on their way to take me out onto the bay in the boat. On our way down to the water I looked around my new town for the first time. On one side of me, the shore went on for miles and people were playing volleyball and soccer on the beach. Men and women were lined up with bags of fresh shrimp, lobster, crab, oyster, octopus and fish to sell. On my other side was a long line of shops and stores with storeowners yelling out all of the deals they had to offer. The people were much taller than those in the sierra and had very dark complexions. I was very excited at the thought of spending two years on the coast.

On day two, my counterpart, a 50 year-old native French woman with a very French accent, came to pick me up at my house and show me the ropes my new job. She first took me to a school where she said I would be spending a lot of my time. She told me that at the school I would be able to give workshops on HIV AIDS, drugs, alcohol, and sex ed. She said I could work with the youth and start after school activities. She introduced me to one of the school´s English teachers who was very excited that I was there and asked me to think about helping out with his 2^nd-5^th grade English classes when I got back. On the weekends I would be spending time in a facility where children come to make toys out of recycled materials and in a ludoteca, which is a library that rents out toys instead of books. The PC gives us a lot of flexibility when it comes to the projects that we choose to take on, so from there it was up to me.

That night my host mother make shrimp with vegetables over rice. While we were eating dinner, I heard and saw something with four legs scurry up the wall. I tried to ignore it and continue eating. Minutes later, a similar creature (or maybe the same one) ran up the wall and stopped in the middle. It was a little lizard/salamander looking thing. I asked my host mother as politely as I could who else was living in the house. She explained that they were just little lizards. She said that they stay on the walls for the most part and that she doesn’t kill them because they eat the flies and mosquitoes. I nodded my head and continued eating. When I went to bed that night, I slept for the first time in a mosquito net. I was happy to have the protection because there were so many mosquitoes in my room I could hear them buzzing around. But inside the net - not a one. For this reason, I was pretty confused the next morning when I woke up with little red bites all over my feet, ankles, stomach, and arms. I thought back to Nurse Lyn´s session on bedbugs. Little red dots in a line? Check. Itching? Check. Completely grossed out? Check. Lyn told us to put all of our sheets out in the sun if we had bedbugs. My host mother told me not to leave stuff on the line when nobody was home because it would get stolen. I had to leave for work in a half hour. Dilemma. I decided to leave the sheets on the bed and deal with it when I got home in the afternoon. Well, I didn´t get home until dark. I got ready to go to bed and thought about my bedbug bites. I realized I had two options: A) Take as many sheets off of the bed as possible and hopefully suffer fewer bits than the night before, or B) Sleep on the floor and be attacked by mosquitoes. Bedbug bites weren´t nearly as itchy as mosquito bites but they lasted longer. Hmm…I decided to strip my bed and put on long pants and a sweatshirt hoping the bedbugs wouldn´t be able to bite through my clothes. It was about 85 degrees out at this time so I laid in bed as still as I could trying to create as little body heat as possible. I laughed at the situation. Welcome to the Peace Corps.

The rest of the site visit went pretty well. The host family situation (just one 50ish year-old woman) is interesting, but I won´t bore you with the details. In one week we will be heading out on what the PC calls our ´technical trips.´ They are splitting us up into 4 groups and sending us out on 4 different trips. I am very excited to be heading to the provenance of Esmeraldas for the week mainly because that’s where most of the Afro-Ecuadorians live and I have been interested in visiting since the day I found out I would be moving to Ecuador. It should be good and I will be sure to update and post pictures ASAP. Thanks for all the emails, phone calls, messages etc. It really helps to have so much support.

Take care and keep in touch!!