Lost in Translation...

Preface: This is purely based on widespread observation and not on any kind of negative connotations toward any peoples!

To Stare:
Def.

1. to gaze fixedly and intently, esp. with the eyes wide open.

2. to be boldly or obtrusively conspicuous
3. to cause to become uncomfortable by gazing steadily at one

This word, "stare," or "to stare," (this is what we call an intransitive verb, needing an object...geeky English teacher moment) strangely doesn't really exist here Ecuador. Like literally. As it turns out, in Spanish, there is no direct translation for the concept of staring at someone. If you try to translate it, it is: "Para Mirar" which really means to look, or to watch.
The fact that this doesn't seem to exist has become painfully obvious as a "Gringa" in Ecuador.

The 3rd definition is my favorite.  I had been warned of the tendency of people here to stare at white people or Gringos when they are out and about; but honestly, this is like a whole new level of staring. When I first noticed this phenomena, I tended to be a bit self-conscious, a bit shy; you know the routine. You think to yourself, "is there food on my face, in my teeth? Bats in the Cave? (that's for you Abby...)" I truly felt like there must be something tragically wrong with me, you know besides the fact that my hair happens to be mostly blond-ish.
After being here and experiencing this quite frequently however, my reaction has turned to what can only be called (and is all too often) NEW YORK. I get a little bit rude, I might have a quiet comment or two...I have recently gotten the point where it's hard to hold back from shouting across the street (sometimes into a restaurant or such where the culprit(s) are blatantly Mirar(ing) "WHAT? YOU'VE NEVER SEEN A BLONDE HAIRED WHITE GIRL BEFORE??"

But alas, I am trying to keep this little gem of an attitude contained...for as long as I can anyway.

Bautizo!

So it’s possible that some of you are tired of my never ending “Ecua-talk.” I have made a bit of a habit of turning every word into something Ecua…I can’t help it, I think it’s kind of Hilarious.

Of all of the Ecua things I have experienced so far, what I saw yesterday may in some ways top them all. Not because it was so out of control that it could never happen under any other circumstances…but more because it happened at SCHOOL.

Yesterday was an event that took place during class time (my charter school friends are probably picking their chins up off the ground in disbelief…WHO HAS TIME FOR THAT???), a tradition that they have just recently brought back called…The Bautizo. Now, this word in Spanish can be translated to literally mean Baptism. But what it really was folks? A School Sanctioned, Student Council run, Principal approved, Freshman Hazing activity. Since I teach both Freshman and Seniors, I got to attend…stealthily avoiding any mud, flour and egg covered child that came within 10 feet of me in order to try to take as many pictures as I could of this ridiculous show. There were stations set up that appeared to have no greater purpose than getting people as dirty as humanly possible within the span of 30 seconds. Mud tunnels, Pies getting smashed in faces, eggs being cracked on heads, bags of flour dumped everywhere. Then…the culmination of all of these shenanigans, the last and final “station,” was something that gave me vivid flashbacks of summers in my childhood. It was a GIANT “slide” that resembled a little too closely the yellow (never quite long enough) slip and slides that would always inevitably get you a serious case of ground rash and grass stain on your face when you flew off the end. THIS particular slide however had multiple hoses, pounds of mud, and a crowd of seniors lined up and down the hill waiting to throw whatever they could get their hands on all over the poor souls that actually volunteered to partake.

In all honestly, it definitely wasn’t the mean spirited, anxiety ridden “Freshman Day” of my (somewhat distant) memories but more of an afternoon where the Seniors and Freshman got to hang out, and well….roll around in and throw mud and flour and eggs (not to mention bowls of Aji which is a spicy Ecuadorian sauce) at each other, while simultaneously eating disgusting combinations—the likes of which I had no interest in finding out. The seniors did seem be having just as much fun being covered in slop as the 9^th graders did… It seemed like kind of a mix between a Senior Buddy thing and Fear Factor.

When asked multiple times by multiple students if I would be joining in the chaos, I could only answer, that one “freshman” day was enough for me thanks. Even if it is an Ecua-tradition. :)

O(2)h No!

So, I've quickly come to the conclusion that there is little to NO Oxygen in the whole of Quito. And whats left is eaten up by exhaust from the thousands of crazy buses. This is especially awesome when you are trying to go running.

Yesterday, I set out to complete my second run since arriving here a little over a week ago. Now I'm not an olympic athlete or anything but I was training for the Marine Corps Marathon right before I took this job and left. I was probably at about 18 miles, give or take. So, yes, I was feeling a little bit cocky or in the very least confident that for my SECOND run (I'm not even going to talk about the first one...if you could call it that), I was going to rock it out. Not only was I going to run faster than last time, but I was going to do 2 laps around the park that I live right across from (I'm guessing it's roughly 2-2.5 miles around).


Well if you haven't already guessed, I was sorely mistaken. I started off a bit faster than last time and actually felt pretty good at first. And then, friends, things went rapidly down hill from there.


Within approximately 7 minutes I'm pretty sure every one of my body systems was beginning to break down. My lungs felt like they were on fire, my muscles were aching like I'd been running for an hour and (and this is a new one for me) my jaw was hurting. My JAW. Why my jaw was hurting from a lack of oxygen is beyond me but trust me, it was not pleasant. In sum, I felt as if I was exerting all of my energy only to be resisted by the huge hand of the Angry Oxygen God who most definitely was probably laughing uproariously.

This is probably why there's no oxygen.

So I finished my lap feeling defeated (it wasn't the quite triumphant finish I had in mind), surrendered to the aforementioned Oxygen God, and then obviously had a drink. For which excessive amounts of oxygen are not required. Thank god.
Lesson Learned.