somewhere under the sky

anecdotal

i did in fact write another post but i took it off and saved it for another time because it was unorganized and uninformed. i decided with this post to share some anecdotes that reflect both the positive and the negative of my experiences here.

the other day i was taking the bus to my friend's house, which is way on the outskirts of the city. in accordance with my friend's directions, as soon as we turned onto the autopista i told the bus-helper (the guy who collects the money and barks out destinations) to drop me off at "the bridge over the river Tarqui." there was some debate between him and the driver, i repeated the destination several times in crystal clear spanish even leaving the Cuencan accent for "plain" Spanish but he claimed never to have heard of such place. meanwhile it had definitely been past the 10 seconds i was supposed to wait. some indigenous women indicated to the bus-helper that said bridge was a bit further down and that she was getting off there. wonderful. then the older man sitting behind her started conversing (shouting really because we were roaring down the highway with the windows open) with bus-helper about me, while i stand there looking at them converse about me. "where is she from?" he asks. "america" replies the bus-helper (generalization number one). "oh" replies the old man "she must be looking for the mall." i fume. i was so angry the only thing i could do was look at this man and say "no. don't judge me." and then i turned around while he continued to talk to my back until i got off. i will be honest about my feelings because i am an honest person. i wanted to physically beat the stereotypes out of this man. but i didn't, because i am not an abusive person. also, the MALL is the LAST place you would find me.
anyway, i get off, still fuming, and after much walking about and waiting and messaging back and forth with my friend, she finally calls and we realize i am waaaaaaaay further down than i need be. when i finally find her we begin walking to her house and she says "look, here is the bridge over the river Tarqui." there it is, a bridge, right over the river Tarqui.
she tried to comfort me by saying that most people who take that line are going to the main mall in Cuenca, but this doesn't excuse this man's, nor the bus-helper's, generalizations about me. i wanted the bridge over the river Tarqui.

the very next day i witnessed not generalizations towards me as a gringa but what is a common phenomena here in Ecuador, which is that of racism by mestizos against indigenous peoples. i got on the bus at the terminal and sat down in the first row next to an old, disabled, indigenous Saraguro man. he very nicely asked me where i was headed, i replied "Saraguro" and asked if this was also his destination. he said no, he was getting off at Urdaneta, a community a bit north of Saraguro. very well. the bus-helper, similar to those of the city buses, before we leave tells the old man that he needs to sit further back because this seat is reserved. the old man, confused but quite willingly complies, and he shuffles back to the seat indicated, where somebody else tells him that said seat is occupied and so he shuffles to the back. was the seat next to me reserved? absolutely not. did someone else that we picked up 10 minutes later sit in that seat? yes. did they pack the bus so that not only all the seats but the entire aisle was full of people? yes. pure racism. i told this story to an indigenous women friend of mine in Saraguro who told me that for this exact reason she doesn't like traveling on the buses and "poor" as she is, prefers to pay extra for a private car for her and her family so they can travel without harassment.

despite the racism and stereotypes of gringas, i love it here. the 12-year old son of the woman i just mentioned was sharing with me his love of rock music, which in fact i don't share but quite willingly explained the english lyrics, explained that i don't personally know KISS or Led Zeppelin, and even demonstrated how to dance to rock, hair loose and flying, the whole 9 yards. at the end of our rock session, even though i was clear about the fact the rock music does not figure into my personal likes, he gave me as a gift one of his CDs of rock music. i asked if he was sure he wanted to part with such a valuable and he said of course, he has plenty. i felt so honored, despite me not liking rock music and him claiming that he has plenty of it, his gift shows how big his heart is. that last part was very cheesy but i have spent the last 10 minutes thinking of how to describe how i felt and words didn't come. so i hope the feeling was felt through the story.

until next time.

posted by leah v @ 7:25 PM 2 comments

a return

on bbcmundo's homepage for today one of the featured videos is entitled "flying penguins." interested, i clicked on the video and was amazed at the images of penguins flying. after 10 seconds of video, you find out the bbc has a sense of humor; the video is a farce. happy april fools, don't i feel foolish.

i'm back in ecuador. it's wonderful to be back, in fact much more than i was expecting. one of the factors that plays a major role in my love for this region of the world is, of course, nostalgia. as soon as we landed in the quito airport, memories of the other two times i have been came to me, and as soon as we were on a bus, i realized how familiar to me this region is. i have ridden many, many, many hours on a buses through Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia, and when i think of Latin America, i think of two things: the bus, and the campo. the images that come to me from the bus, the layout of the cities, the entrances to small towns, the architecture of the houses of the rich, the half-built houses with money from remittances, the houses of the poor, street vendors, shops, and of course, the Andes, all these images are so familiar to me now and this familiarity was what i found a little weird-that another world, because it is a totally different world, should be so familiar to me. the campo is the countryside where peasants and indigenous farmers live. the sight of the campo in the Andes and the smell, whatever that smell is, has made its mark on my heart and i cannot think of anywhere more peaceful in the world.

i hope to have some excellent stories and information to share, i will be keeping the blog up regularly.

posted by leah v @ 4:23 PM 2 comments