Is your Heart Filled with Pain, Shall I Come Back Again? (Plus a Bombshell)

Please forgive me now if this entry is very self-centered, maybe I am feeling sorry for myself or a bit egoistic. 

I'm listening to Elvis as I begin to write this latest blog entry, "Jailhouse Rock," "That's Alright Momma," "Are You Lonesome Tonight?", no seriously, are you lonesome tonight? I would explain why I'm listening to Elvis, but most of you will already get it, that's just Chris being Chris. Anyhow, I noticed that I provoked a little bit of polemic by posting the last time in Spanish, you can use Google Translate for that by the way, so I thought it was high time I post the latest update in English and let you all know how things have been going. There's been an extremely exciting amount of news coming in and out in the last few weeks; I myself have a bombshell to drop on you as well, but I plan to hold off until the end of the entry to tell you. Have to maintain reader interest right? Stop scrolling down right now! 

Now let's see, my best friend in the whole world, Nick John Wilson, is getting married! I spoke with Lesley for a few hours and was assured that I would be disowned if I don't make it to the wedding. Don't worry, I wouldn't miss it even for a culebra (snake) bite. The Flurkeys are doing well, but Bill is not liking his classes :-( Don't worry guys, the semester is just about over! My momma seems to be doing alright as well, I miss her and I know she has a lot on her plate. Know that I'm thinking about all of you and wishing I could help with my physical presence, but it's not possible. I also found out that I have several visitors coming! My best friend from Argentina, Branko Gueper will be coming down in January, I will be seeing the Holleys in December and Daniface will be here! 

When I talked to Lesley, she mentioned that I seemed sad a lot, and the truth is that I do feel sad sometimes, but that has to do with other factors that I'm not quite ready to discuss. Most of you will already know why it is anyway. On the other hand, apart from my occasional bouts with sadness or depression, which have always been common mediums in my life, I'm happier than ever. I will tell you that I have never felt more content with an occupation than I do with the work that I am performing here and now. I feel like what I am doing, for the first time in my life, is really making a meaningful difference. For the first time, I am working not to make money for me or help some enterprise or institute make more money. I'm working, among other things, so that these kids have a better future, so that the community is enriched and so that we can do our small part to save the rain forest. I feel incredibly fortunate to have this opportunity and I won't be letting it go easily. It's been awhile since I could say that I am proud of myself, hold my head up high and know that I'm doing what's right. Now I just need to get the rest of my personal life together! My media naranja is missing and I hope she will accompany me in this journey.    

I made it back safely to Mondaña and I feel like I'm right at home again. Why do I torture myself by leaving every month?! If you would like to read a little about how my trip went, just translate the last blog entry. On the other hand, that's also a story so it has a lot of fictional elements. In short, the trip was about normal, I had a few things happen that made it kinda suck, but that's life. In the end, I'm back in my querida selva, beloved jungle. It has been a little hot, but manageable. Today we have had rain non-stop and I love it. It started last night and hasn't stopped! 

This is the first time I have had the group of students that are at the school now. They seem to be great kids, they're all great kids, but we are still getting to know each other since we haven't spent an extended amount of time together until now. I am recycling the lessons that I used from the first term so that all of the students get the same material and are all on the same page. These students are older and a little more advanced, so I have modified the lessons a little bit. On a side note, I went from listening to Elvis to Journey, "Separate Ways" right now. 

I let Debbie Flurkey know that, although I have pretty slow net for Skype or anything like that, I can still easily receive email. So, if you wish to write me, send me a mail at cbaumunk@sycamores.indstate.edu and I'll write back, just like the old days! Thanks to Deb, I have some new materials to incorporate into my teaching, I already used the "Parts of Speech Poem," it was great. Speaking of grammatical points, if you've noticed that my English is worse, I do apologize, I've been mostly at full Spanish for three months now, oh well. "Hey man, I'm alive, I'm taking each day a night at a time," sings Bon Jovi blaring out of my computer speakers. 

Things have started slow, like usual at the beginning of all of the sessions up to this point. I don't have many new things to tell you about the selva except that she is as beautiful as ever; I know I don't post many pics, but maybe Dani can help me with that when she comes in December. I have been getting better connected to the community and I try to go down often to get to know everyone. This place is really small and it takes quite a but of time for the community members to get used to you and no longer see you as an outsider. I have been here for going on two months and I still haven't gotten to that point. I have, on the other hand, gotten close to a handful of people and they are just incredible. What else can I say, but that the latino, selva, way of life is tranquila (tranquil), simple and incredible. Once the people trust you and know you, they treat you like family. I have been trying to do my part. Apart from my duties at the school, carrying (provisions) and working with the kids, I have also been sitting in on English classes every Tuesday and Wednesday in the community and helping with the construction of a new house. 

With the kids, I have been doing a "quote of the day", so if you have any favorite quotes you think I should use, please let me know. Today I also asked them a very important question, but not many had an answer. ¿Por qué existimos? Why do we exist? I really don't have an answer either...thoughts?

Okay already, I will finish with my big piece of news. Please don't freak out, and remember, I will always love you all. I realized that I am entirely in love with the Amazon, I love what I am doing and have never felt better, I am incredibly inspired and I don't want to leave this place for a while. I have decided that I am going to begin looking into how a more permanent position can be organized for me here in the selva. I want to at least graduate the groups of students that we have right now. That means two more years, and then we'll go from there. This means many things: I would be establishing my residency here, I will, of course, travel and visit all of you during my breaks, I will be at Nick and Hilary's wedding in October, but my home will be here and you will have to come and visit me in the selva. There it is, there's the bombshell. I'm sorry, but I'm a coward and I thought this would be the easiest way to break the news to everyone at once without being confronted one by one! :-) Please register your complaints directly here, with cbaumunk@sycamores.indstate.edu, www.facebook.com/cbaumunk or wait till I'm in Quito to call and yell at me (that will be towards the end of November).       

Regreso al oriente con prisa lenta…

           La última vez que subió a la ciudad, le fue bastante mal. No tenía con quien hablar, se sentía solo, triste y nostálgico. Quería estallarse, pero no había como y no valía. Quizás fue por eso que le fue tan horrible, que no durmió, no comió y sentía fuertes ganas de vomitar en el colectivo. Pues, al llegar, ya estaba listo para volver.

            Las cosas no se mejoraron mucho en la ciudad tampoco. Era la primera vez que andaba verdaderamente solo en esa tierra extranjera y lo sentía mucho. Se dio cuenta de que, realmente, no importaba mucho, podría haber estado un montón de gente y se habría sentido igual. La ciudad era reconocible, pero era diferente, ¿o era él el diferente? Esa época simplemente no fue suya y punto.

            Sabía que el volver al oriente le haría bien, pero no esperaba que el tránsito fuera tan bárbaro. Él sabía que lo iba a joder solito, pero quería volver igual y tenía que subir al colectivo a las dieciséis en punto, en Cumbayá. Tenía que ser temprano, no entendía bien por qué. A la vez, andaba suficientemente tranquilo. Estaba por dejar atrás la ciudad fría, la locura de ella, la contaminación, la “bulla,” como decían ahí (contaminación auditoria), y el “quilombo,” como decimos en Argentina. Ya sentía muchas ganas de estar en su querida selva y relajarse allí.

            Sabía que se sentiría mil veces mejor al llegar a casa, a verla a ella y al trabajar tranquilo. Tenía, como siempre, muchas cosas en la mente; pensaba en las vacaciones de Navidad, en el pasado, en el futuro y todo lo que implicaba lo que estaba sucediendo en el presente. También se preguntó, “pienso demasiado, ¿verdad?” La gente andaba bastante feliz; era feriado y la ciudad de la boca de la selva estaba repleta, a full. Él pensó, en ese momento, que era interesante como había perdido algunas cosas de su cultura de pibes y tierras gauchas, pero ganado tantas de esa magnífica tierra amazónica de la mitad del mundo.

            Él llegó a tiempo, a las dieciséis, el colectivo, sin embargo, se demoró media hora más. Fue bárbaro subir al cole que salía de la ciudad y ver que era el mismo de antes, con el mismo conductor y ayudante de la última vez. No le fue tan mal como esperaba.  Llegó rápido, charlando con su nuevo amigo conductor. A llegar, quería festejar en la ciudad con la demás gente, pero no lo sentía lo suficiente y se pasó a dormir en un lugar que le había ofrecido tan amablemente. Se acostó, escuchando la farra desde la ventana. No pudo dormir, se quedó despierto, queriendo estar en medio de la joda y andar feliz como todo el mundo. Sin embargo, no conocía a casi nadie en esa ciudad nueva y ¿quién le invitaría? Ya le habría enojado a su única amiga ahí.

            Al final, durmió poco más que un par de horas, madrugando con añoranza de baile y joda bonaerense. Se marchó temprano, buscando un lugar donde desayunar, pero, más que eso, buscando cómo resolver la estupidez que había hecho la noche anterior. Comió, trataba de tranquilizarse, pero no resultó de mucho. Llamó una vez más, eso después de haber desayunado en el único café que conocía. No estaba, o, por lo menos, no contestó. Él estaba ya lo suficiente preocupado, pero de gana porque lo hizo todo él mismo. Pues era con razón, había dicho algo bien estúpido la noche anterior. No podía hacer nada, ya fue ya está.

            Se sentía inútil y tonto por lo que hizo y por el hecho que no podía corregirlo, pero tenía que marcharse. Su último chance de salir de la ciudad de la boca selvática se iba en el colectivo de las once y él tenía que estar ahí. La selva lo llamaba en voz alta. Fue raro, al inicio, volver solo a la comunidad. Pensó que iba a reconocer a gente en el colectivo o, por lo menos, al llegar a la comuna, pero no ocurrió. O sea, vio a un par de conocidos, pero nadie que se sentaría a conversar un rato con él. Se dio cuenta de que estaba siendo estúpidamente melancólico, deprimente y melodramático, realmente. No tenía que molestarse tanto; sí, pensaba demasiado. Como dijo ella, “todo con su tiempo…”         

La muerte recalentada (Death Warmed Over)

            In Ecuador, like much of the rest of the world, they have been adapting, more and more, western holidays and practices like Halloween. When I was here at Christmas time, I noticed that a lot of the familiar and horrible commercialism of the holiday season that consumes the North American country is, unfortunately, catching on quite a bit here. They already have the Christmas merchandise out in the stores and they´re putting up the huge Christmas tree outside of El Jardín shopping center. That being said, the original celebrations and traditions are still hanging on, if only by threads. This isn’t necessarily the case in the entire country, but it’s very much apparent in Quito. I haven’t been able to observe enough in the jungle to judge, but I think that they are definitely sticking to the customs of Ecuador and their people much more than to the Yanqui practices.

I’m sure many of you have heard of the Day of the Dead, Día de los muertos or Día de los difuntos, which takes place on the 2^nd of November. The holiday in Ecuador is celebrated with one of my new favorite practices, the serving up of colada morada (a blood-red cocktail juice made of many different marvelous ingredients) with guaguas de pan (bread made in the form of an infant). For the English-speaking reader, be prepared for a vocab lesson, colada morada contains the following: harina de maíz (corn flour), moras (blueberries or raspberries), frutillas (strawberries), babaco (no idea of the translation), mortiño (no idea), naranjilla (no translation), piña (pineapple), panela (brown sugar), azúcar (sugar), canela (cinnamon), ishpingo (no trans., like cinnamon), pimienta de dulce (sweet spice), cebrón (?), hierba luisa (lemon verbena), hoja de naranja (orange leaf), cuatro o tres hojitas de durazno (peach). Most of the fruits are chopped up or liquefied and the entire concoction is warmed up over the stove. Don’t let the blood reference scare you away, this stuff is magically delicious! I have it from a credible source that the colada represents the blood of the difuntos (the deceased) and the guagua is the body, but also represents life (bread). If that info is inaccurate, by all means, feel free to consult Wikipedia.    

I’m on another week-long break; if you haven’t realized by now, I get a week off at the end of each month. I know, my life is ridiculously hard! J On the other hand, you try living, working and teaching in jungle conditions for three weeks, almost 30 days straight, without weekend breaks, and let me know if you can keep going without a breather. Don’t get me wrong, I miss the selva big time and I wish I was back right now; I think I’m falling in love with her.

You might be thinking to yourself, “Chris, get to the point, I want to know where the title of the blog comes in!” What the hell am I talking about in my title, “Death Warmed Over”? Let me tell you, warm colada, representing the blood of the dead, is exactly how I felt by the time I got to Quito after my most recent trip. Anyone want to make an incredible donation and buy me a car for here in Ecuador?! J When I got to Cumbayá, just outside of Quito, all I could think about was, “death warmed over, muerte recalentada, así me siento, that’s how I feel!”

First off, my trip from Los Ríos to Tena was not too bad; it was just your standard 3 hour trip at a max of 40 km/h over roads made of sizeable river rock. I was pretty tired during that trip, but I thought that I shouldn’t sleep so that I would sleep better later, in preparation for my trip to Quito from Tena. That’s what I get for thinking. On the bright side, when I arrived in Tena, I had a place to stay. I walked a few blocks to a room that was graciously offered to me by Lizbeth, a gesture that is way more than I deserve. The room is great, I love it! It fits me and my minimalist ideals perfectly; it has room for the bed, a small closet, a chair, a small table and two windows. That’s really all I need in life! Those of you who know me well know that I am being completely serious here. I left some things in the room and headed out to see if I might meet up with the other compañeros at their Hostel. After being told that they were out, I decided that I really needed a haircut.

Of course, before getting a haircut, I had to grab an ice cream; it’s a basic necessity when arriving to any city after leaving the selva. After a delicious waffle bowl of ice cream, a combination of dulce de leche with maracuyá (passion fruit, one of my favorites) and chocolate chips, I headed off to get my military cut. The lady in the peluquería (barbershop) was charming and cracked me up; she nearly refused to leave my head with as little hair as I requested. In Latin America, it is not customary for the men to lop off all of their hair. This is a serious subject! The men here really worry about their hairstyle. Let me give you a primary example. Every time that I’m in charge of getting the students into formation, who do you think are the last to arrive? If you think it’s the girls, you’re wrong. It never fails; I always catch a group of two or three guys surrounding the tiny single mirror in our bathroom and gelling up their tresses into rock-solid perfection. It’s quite a sight. So serious is the case that I often worry about the grave possibility of a major hair gel shortage in Latin America. Let’s hope, for my students’ sake, that that day never comes!

With my fresh buzz cut, I headed off to the Tena bus station to purchase my ticket for Quito; I opted for the 02:00 departure time. What the hell was I thinking? Later on that night, I sat down in a small restaurant called Café Tortuga and ordered a small coffee with a small piece of bread so that I wouldn’t feel guilty about occupying their net. I broke my first rule of pre bus travel, I drank liquid! After my coffee, I also enjoyed a large glass of tea, bad decisions that I would be regretting later on! My next bad decision came in the form of dinner. I met up with the compañeros and we decided to have tacos for dinner, a good choice, but not enough food for a 5 hour bus ride. The taco was good, but there was only one and I had way too much ají (hot sauce) with mine. This was all perfect prep for a terribly angry stomach.

I returned to the perfect little room and tried to grab a few hours of sleep before catching the bus at 02:00, I failed miserably at this task. I’ve been reading The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo for going on two months now and was anxious to finish it up finally, I also failed at that, but managed to keep myself up until 23:30 in the intent. My alarm went off at 01:45 and I had managed to sleep a total of one hour max, dreaming about the horrors of Dragon Tattoo. I dragged my sorry ass out of the perfect bed and the perfect room and out into the darkness of the madrugada (early morning). If I would have known the hell that awaited me, I would have thought again about just how bad I wanted to get to Quito.

I don’t think I have complained too much about traveling in Ecuador up until now, so forgive me for the whining* session that is to follow in these next paragraphs. (*Thinking about a certain reader, I opted to substitute in “whining” here for another word, but you can guess what word I would prefer and had originally written). I will continue to travel by bus because I don’t mind it, it’s economical and fairly practical, but this last trip just sucked. Here is a breakdown of my issues:

-Problem 1: The buses don’t usually have bathrooms and my tea and coffee started Mother Nature’s call about an hour into the trip (just under 4 hours left).

-Problem 2: I originally had two seats to myself when a rather large woman decided, out of all of the empty rows (with two empty seats), that she needed to sit next to me and stretch out, sleep and lean on me to the point that I was smashed against the window.

-Problem 3: I was starving and my stomach wanted to kill me for feeding it a single taco and extra hot sauce.

-Problem 4: I was not sleeping a damned bit.

-Problem 5: We reached the mountains and the crazy curves, speeding up and slowing down and the rapid change of temperature made me noxious to the point that I was looking, seriously, for a place to vomit.

-Problem 6: I was wearing my lonas without socks and a simple windbreaker and I was freezing to death with the mountain air.

-Problem 7: The situation of having to use the restroom had gotten to the point that it was making me even sicker of my stomach.

-Problem 8: They usually play decent music on the bus, but this driver had horrible taste and I wanted to smash his radio with whatever heavy object I could locate.

Now for my attempts (and fails) at resolving these problems:

-Solution/fail 1: I moved to another seat and tried to sleep in various positions, slightly stretched out, curled up or against the window, but nothing worked and I merely managed to achieve that my right leg fall asleep.     

-Solution/fail 2: I tried to bundle up my windbreaker and a pair of pants, that I had pulled out of my bag, as a pillow, but they didn’t turn out to be very comfortable and I needed to put on the windbreaker because of the cold.

-Solution/fail 3: I tried to remember what I had been told to do to get over nausea, but I couldn’t remember a thing. I thought you were supposed to put your head between your legs or something like that, but I decided that would look simply ridiculous and I think that’s for panic attacks anyway.

-Solution/fail 4: I tried to think about other things or other problems in my life to distract myself, but nothing seemed graver than that present vomit, sleep deprived and freezing situation.   

            In the end I decided to just think about how terrible I felt and feel sorry for myself. I adjusted the chair so that it was in the upright position, stared at the clock, embraced the fact that I was bound to puke sooner or later and thought about how great it would be to yell at the driver to turn off his radio before I ended it. The call of Mother Nature got to the breaking point and I pounded on the door separating me from the driver and his assistant. I told him that he could leave me on the mountain, but that I had to go one way or another. It really wasn’t his fault, how could he have known? Equally, I really didn’t care at that moment! Fortunately, the driver was kind enough to not leave me on the freezing cold mountain, I took care of business and we were able to be friends again. I sat upright feeling slightly better for the rest of the trip, but still unable to sleep and feeling considerably awful yet and still.

            I know that you’re going to say, “Christopher, you’re not old and you’ve got plenty of youth left,” but I sure felt like a very old man by the time I got to Quito. I know I’ve felt worse in other occasions, but I really couldn’t recall a single one of them in that moment. When I got to Carcelén, I crashed and stayed in bed until 13:00. I could have simply saved myself the torture and left Tena at a normal morning hour and arrived bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the same time I got done recovering from the 02:00 trip, ni modo…

            I don’t have much to say about Quito because I have already told you quite a bit about it. I do have one episode that I would like to relate; it was a brand new experience for me and it was a bit terrifying once I realized what it was. I mentioned in the previous paragraph that I crashed when I got to Carcelén, this was almost written in a literal since; I almost crashed down with the entire house. Just as I was preparing to lie down, the room that I was in began to shake, a lot. My first thought was that someone was using some heavy machinery outside (Carcelén is an industrial district) and I also thought that someone could be running up the stairs. I proceeded to plug something in, then I thought, it’s still shaking and who the hell would be running up the stairs when I’m alone in the house? Then it registered in my mind, “Shit, un temblor, un maldito temblor”! It was a tremor; I took off running, down the stairs and out the front door of the house. It was over before I got to the door, but it scared the hell out of me nonetheless. I was very hesitant about reentering the house and waited outside for about 5 minutes. That was the first tremor I have ever experienced. I don’t know if what I did was right, I didn’t know what to do, but all I knew was that I was getting the hell out of the house. Later, I was informed that the whole ordeal only lasted about 5-6 seconds, but it felt like a minute at least. I think I’ll do some research on the new rules for reacting to earthquake emergencies.