A Consideration of Airplaines

     During PST I remember standing outside a friend’s house, my hand on the door handle, but not opening the door.  I was staring at the sky, completely enraptured.  I was watching the stars in a cloudless sky wink and glimmer, the moon cast light onto a white and blue plastered wall, and filtered down through an overarching arbor of grape leaves.  But was really caught my eye was a set of evenly spaced blinking lights in the sky, heading south-east at a leisurely pace; an airplane.  In Missoula, I lived next to an airport and saw planes landing every day, usually flying fairly low over the house.  There really wasn't any magic or mystery to them; they were simply bringing people or materials to Middle-of-Nowhere, Montana, and  I never really felt intrigued by them; perhaps because they were so frequent and represented nothing more than more than returning to a place I felt little love for. 

                                                                                      Credit: Raven                         

     But here, in Azerbaijan, in what many people still refer to as, ‘The Orient’,  I could tell that the plane now flying over me was headed out over the Caspian, bound toward the South Seas, and someplace infinitely more exotic sounding than, “Sumgayit”; which was the location of the small, beautiful, though less exotic  yard in which I stood.  It was also only the second plane I had seen since arriving in this lesser-known part of the world to become a Peace Corps volunteer.  And now, looking up at the plane making its smooth track across the star fields, I wanted nothing more than to be in it, heading towards some unknown destination, and away from the terrifying task that lay ahead of me.  In that way, the blinking lights in the sky captured me and my mind absolutely.  Airplanes seemed a much more mysterious phenomenon than a simple means of transportation.  They represented escape, the thrill of the unknown, and the possibility of new and different people and places.

     I look back on that moment, now with some experience in the village that had so terrified me, and see it in a new light.  In representing escape, it also represented a release of responsibility; specifically, the responsibility of teaching children (and adults) English in my village for two years, the responsibilities of coming up with activities and helping implement programs in my site, as well as representing America, Peace Corps, and myself to the general populace   That weight still drags me down, and I still struggle to deal with the expectations that go along with the acceptance of those obligations.  But at the same time, I understand that you can't run from what scares you forever.  You have to eventually face those fears and move forward with your life; essentially, you have to grow up and accept the duties of adulthood.  At this point, i'm just moving myself forward through sheer willpower, focusing on the day-to-day minutiae that helps me keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I am still scared, and still need small escapes to keep myself from turning and running, but slowly, i'm building up confidence in both myself and my abilities.  And the next time I get on a plane, it won't be to escape from something that scares me, put to head off towards something that does.  In that way, I will keep moving forward in my life; and in that way I will go the only way worth going in life.  Up.

                                                                              Credit: Ajay Talwar

An Azerbaijani Christmas

     So I have now had my first Christmas in Azerbaijan, and I will admit, I was a bit disappointed.  Apparently, most PCV's get together and celebrate at one person's house; but unfortunately for the Agdash region, there isn't really anyone close to celebrate with.  Also, the person we usually go over to see, was out of site.  So be that as it may, I had a reaaaallly interesting day.  I planned out some Christmas lessons for my classes, and got some pictures of Chrismassy stuff to show them, as well as some Christmas music to listen to.  I taught 5th grade (a + b) and they loved it, especially when I showed pictures of my family at Christmas back in the States.  My 7th grade class went a bit catty-wampus though.

   Christmas!

     See, I ran into a guy in the teacher's room who wanted to learn English, I talked a bit about Peace Corps and what I was doing, and then left to go to my 4th form class.  While I'm watching and waiting for my turn, the same guy comes into the class, and comes over and starts talking to me while class is going on.  I'm a bit wary at this point, and when he says he wants me to teach him English, I just tell him that I'll be doing conversation clubs in the Spring and Summer, and he should look up English programs in Baku (since he lives there) He stays and talks to me all through the lesson though, up until I get up to teach, then he watches me teach.  As soon as the bell rings, I escape, and head off to 7th grade.  Unfortunately, my co-teacher, Durdana, is nowhere to be found.  Apparently she had to go do something in Agdash, and she'll be late to the class.  Ok, fine, I can start and then have her take over when she comes back, right?
     Well I start my Christmas shtick, cutting out the more complicated things since I don't have a translator, when who should walk in but the same guy!! This time he has another teacher with him, and they both come in and sit in my class.  I keep going, writing Christmas vocab on the board and having the kids figure out how to translate it into Azeri, (I show pictures to help) except that this time, the guy and the teacher keep answering, or tell the students the answer (sometimes the wrong answer), and when I ask for a student to come up and try to write the correct Azerbaijani word next to the English one (without help from the pictures) the teacher instead gets up and writes them all for the students.  I'm as flustered as the students are, so I switch tracks, and start talking about Christmas as a family holiday, and explain how Families don't all live near each other like in Azerbaijan.  That little cultural lesson went rather well, and as soon as class is done, I bolt, grab my stuff, and head out.  Except that as I head out the door, the same guy follows me out and says he wants me to teach him English every day.
     By this point I am thoroughly creeped out, and trying to get away.  I tell him I have to go home, he says he'll go with me.  I tell him I have a car coming to get me, he doesn't understand, but says he'll drive me in his car.  Luckily, my host brother shows up and takes me over to the car where my host mother (and her driver) are waiting for me.  Thus, the car is full, and the guy turns around and starts talking to some other teachers, asking about me.  I tell my host mother (as best I could) that there was a guy following me and asking about English lessons.  She nods and off we go.
     We get back to the house, I pull up some Christmas music and the Mythbusters Christmas Special, and just lay back until dinner.  At dinner, my host father gave me a Christmas gift of a chocolate bar (80% cacao) and some socks, my host brother gave me some candy and a punch out figure of a women looking like an alien from the 1970's (needless to say, I love it!)  I was happy and went back to watch some more Mythbusters when suddenly, they called me out to meet one of their older brother's friends.  IT WAS THE SAME GUY from my school!!  At this point I just gave up and talked to him for about 2 hours, and gave him simple dialogues, like "Talk about yourself" or "What's Baku like?", but he kept skewing them to topics like God, consumerism, and the human condition.  Which are topics far too complex for his level of English. (And my level of Azerbaijani)  After he left, I headed to bed, but was stopped by Minara (my host sister) asking me to quiz her on her English.  I did a few words, but she was struggling, so I told her to study them, and I'd test her quickly tomorrow.
     I headed to bed again, when my host mom stopped me and covertly gave me her Christmas gift, a pair of underwear with sparkly roses on them. (Is this common here? I've been given socks, bras, and underwear as gifts since I got here, which I find kind of strange) Finally I got to my room, only to be followed in by my other host sister asking me to help her with an exam.  I tried to say I was tired, I had to go to bed, etc... But she just moved some stuff and sat down. *sigh* I helped her with 10 problems before she noticed that I my eyes were closing and I was nodding off.  She said good night and left.  I climbed into bed and finished the last 5 min of Mythbusters, and was about to close down when suddenly, my dad popped up on Skype.
     It being Christmas, I tried to get on for a moment to tell them Merry Christmas.  O. M. G...  Ok, I admit, I was ragged by that point, I had had a long, difficult day of being followed and everyone wanting me to teach them English. I jumped on Skype and called them, and as soon as my sister answered, I practically yelled, "Type!! Just type or we'll get disconnected!"  I then started typing to them, only for them to keep talking, saying, "I can't hear you. Katie?  How come you're not saying anything?" I told them, "Type!  Type to me!" And then, unsurprisingly, we were disconnected. This pattern repeated itself for about 20 minutes, by then end of which, I was typing over and over, begging, swearing, for them to Please, pleasepleasepleasefortheloveofGod just TYPE!  I was ready to scream and just shut it off when by a miracle, they started TYPING!! Yes!  After that, I was able to talk to my family, and I will admit, that was a nice way to end the day and relieve my stress (Thank God my mom is a RPCV).
     Next year, I plan to spend the day with other PCV's, and have hot chocolate, and presents, and a tree, etc...  I am kind of sad that my Christmas was so stressful, but admittedly, I won't be forgetting it anytime soon.  And, as much as I hate to admit it...it'll make a great story for next Christmas.  Good Night to all and a Happy New Year!

Overview of Azerbaijan

(This post is just going to be a quick overview of where I am, what it's like, and what I'm doing.)

  Where I am:
     Sumgayit, Azerbaijan (Now Agdash, Azerbaijan)
  Why?
     Peace Corps - TEFL program (Teaching English)
  Where is Azerbaijan?
     Azerbaijan is boardered by Russia to the North, Iran to the South, Georgia and Armania to the West, and the Caspian Sea to the East.
  Quick History of Azerbaijan:
     Considered part of Eastern Europe, Central Asia, and the Middle East, it is a post-Soviet republic and now does quite a bit of oil work.  It is (tecnically) the birthplace of Zoastrianism, and known as "The Land of Fire".  It is an ancient land, with petroglyphs that date back to the paleolithic era, lots of Zoastrian shrines that date back to 6000 BC, and is the farthest east that the Romans ever went.  It has over time, been an independant area, been under the control of the Ottoman Empire, The Iranian Shah, and (after briefly attaining independance in 1918 for about 8 months) was invaded by Russia and made a part of the Soviet Union, eventually gaining independance in 1992. It is a secular Muslim country and has good relations with the U.S. and Israel, with a focus on business.   (And to answer the most common question I get from back home; No, I don't have to wear a headscarf.)

 

I am currently in PST, or Peace Corps Training, and I am a Peace Corps Trainee, to become a full Peace Corps Volunteer after Swearing In.  Peace Corps has 3 programs in Azerbaijan; TEFL, Youth Development, and Community Development.  My program, TEFL, places American teachers in Azerbaijani schools to help teach English and advance understanding of America and Americans.  I have language class for 4 hours a day,5- 6 days a week, and technical training for roughly the same amount of time.
 (Update)  I am currently a PCV, or Peace Corps Volunteer, working in a small village in the Agdash region.  I have 16 hours of classes, and teach forms 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, and 8. I work in a small school of about 250 students, and have 2 counterparts (fellow English teachers) that I work with. I live with a local host family and at the moment don't know too many people, but hopefully the longer I am here, the more that will change.

If you have any questions for me, please leave a comment and I'll do my best to answer them!

Peace Out

     Hey Look! I finally posted!  Soooo a lot has happened since my last post, and things that have been stuck in limbo for years all of a sudden decided to sort themselves out, grab me by the collar, and chuck me headfirst into LIFE. No, not the board game, that thing that I've been waiting to start for the past 4 years (ever since I was exiled to Montana).
     So, you may be wondering what it is that finally kick started my life again?  What was it?  I FINALLY (finallyfinallyfinally!!) received a notice in the mail from the Peace Corps, inviting me to serve in Azerbaijan, and asking if I wanted to continue............DID I WANT TO CONTINUE?!  Ever since I got out of college, this is all I've focused on!  In order to complete all the requirements, I've had to volunteer in 6 different jobs, (from delivering coffee and newspapers to every patient in the local hospital, to building sets and costumes for local theatre, to actually scraping out every cent in my savings and begging donations from family and friends in order to go to Ecuador to volunteer teach.  All of this so I could fill the PC requirements 3 times over) had to get more than $2000 worth of dental work in order to be considered, had to have a surgery (that cost more than I like remembering) that 3 different doctors attested that I didn't need because PC wouldn't allow one little box go unchecked, even with 3 different doctors signing off on the fact that it was unnecessary, and lastly, having my mother pull strings and call in favours to so many people that I'm pretty sure I'm in debt to the majority of Missoulas' medical community as well as to most of the RPCV's in the area(including MY MOTHER).  I've spent 4 years of my life and nearly $9000 dollars actively pursuing this, and you ask DO I WANT TO CONTINUE!!!  *ahem* Sorry.  I still get a bit worked up over that letter.  (Though I think it bears mentioning that most other Peace Corps Trainees I've talked to had no problems whatsoever.  So my story is an anomaly, not the norm)...Moving on.

     (At this moment, I am sitting in my host family's living room, watching Russian TV, and listening to Michael Jackson's Greatest Hits as performed on traditional Azeri instruments; which, believe it or not, is actually quite good.)   So everything has turned out well, but I'll admit, my first thought when I read the invitation was, "I don't believe you." (I'll explain why in another post, I've already complained enough)  So I was very calm and laid back as the deadline crept ever closer.  I drove my mother quite insane with my laissez-faire attitude about it, because every time she started getting excited about where I was going and doing, and asked if I was excited or nervous, my answer was, "No."  In fact, even as I was going through security at the Missoula Airport, on my way and waving goodbye to my family, I felt nothing.  I was actually starting to worry about it, since I wasn't feeling anything, about anything.  I was wondering if I should talk to the PCMO (PC Medical Officer), when one night, my host family noticed my tattoos (through my tights) and asked about them.  I pointed to the speedskate I have on .my ankle, and explained that it represents my father.  And all of a sudden, without warning, tears welled up.  My family started yelling, "Oh no! No Cry! No Cry!" and I desperately tried keep from bawling.  While I did manage it, I've now noticed that any discussions about my family or friends (or my dog) are certain to bring me to tears, and it has yet to abate.  I still run with everyone else to check the mail, and pray that maybe, just maybe, I got a letter (or a package) from back home.  Today I got a letter from my friend and high school classmate Katie T.  I promptly ran back to my friends, showed off the letter, and passed around the wedding invitation that came with it (Congratulations Katie!) to general acclaim. 
    Kind of strange that I'm such a loner, and yet, now that I'm here, I can tell that I crave connections with people.  I have Katies' card on my table, and her invitation taped next to my parents letters on my wardrobe door.  I skyped my parents, and my best friend, but still crave that physical link, the feel of the paper, the curves of the writing.  There is something so powerful in that physicality, the knowledge that what you are holding was at one point being held by a friend or a family member on the other side of the world, that they wrote these words and committed them to paper.  It makes me feel like I am not alone, and if I do feel alone (and I have) I can pull out those letters and know that there are people who are thinking of me. 
     I notice that this has gotten off on a tangent, but honestly, I think it was a tangent worth taking.  I'll upload another post to deal with the more general aspects of Azerbaijan and my service.  Leave me a note in the comments if there is anything you would like for me to talk about specifically, and I'll do my best.  Take Care all.
  Fair Winds and Following Seas.

Revenge Of The Nerd! Part 1

Museums and libraries are my drugs of choice.  I can easily spend whole days in either, usually in rapture to some obscure book or object that most other people pass by. ("A Clovis point! Cool!" "Ohhh, Queen Elizabeth's Wardrobe Unlock'd!")  So when I heard that the King Tut exhibit was in Seattle (a mere 7 hours away) I bought the tickets before alerting the rest of my family that we were making a little detour on our trip to kayak with orcas. 

AHHHHHHH!!!!   (I should mention that Orcas terrify me.)

 

The exhibit was at the Seattle Science Center (And is ongoing until January 2013 I think) We had to buy tickets to go in at a specific time, and the line was enormous, But really, none of that mattered.  Because an archaeologist in the King Tut exhibit is worse than a kid in a candy store.  "Who cares where the rest of the family is!  Look at that!!"

Ooooh, and that!

AND THAT!

It. Was. Awesome. 

There was one thing though that bothered me.  I am very big on being respectful to other cultures, even if those cultures don't exist anymore.  So when I am looking at the coffin of Tutankhamen's stillborn baby daughters, and I hear people say, 1. "They were pretty stupid to make all this stuff for after they died." 2. "She looks like she would have been a good lay." or 3. "You see, they thought animals were gods, that's why God destroyed them."  It makes me want to hit them!  Really, people?  You pay to come and see one of the greatest archaeological discoveries of all time, from one of the greatest cultures of all time, and those are your comments?! Gah!! Just...just GAH!!  When I heard idiotic comments like that, I would grab my audio guide, hit play, and listen to Harrison Ford instead. (Oh Harrison Ford, what would I do without you?)  But I can now gleefully say that I saw the King Tut artifacts!  (And I even resisted the gift shop as well.)

Top 10 Things I will Miss

Sadly, my time here in Ecuador is fast coming to an end.  And naturally, as according to Murphy's Law, it's just as I am fully settling in.  I realized yesterday that I can walk down any street, go into any store, and eat at any restaurant, and feel fully comfortable.  Compare this to my first month here, when I was terrified to simply walk two blocks down the street to the Mall.  Also, I have finally figured out what kinds of food (and juice) I love and can ask for.  So, because I'm feeling nostalgic, this is my list of things that I will miss from Ecuador.

10. No Bugs (At Least in Quito)

    In Quito, there are no screens in the windows. (This in itself makes me quite giddy simply because I can lean out of my window, and drop things down to people on the sidewalk) In Quito, the only bugs you will see is an occasional fly, and mosquitoes can't live this high up!  No bugs makes me very, very happy.  (This does not apply to the rainforest, where all the bugs live and try to make up for the fact that they aren't able to get to you at all times.)

This is from the rainforest, not Quito.

9. The Rooftops
     Again, this seems to be mainly in the Highlands, but practically every house here utilizes their roof.  Every building with a flat roof (most of them) has laundry strung out across them, dogs living on them, kids playing soccer, women washing clothes, etc.  If it weren't for the fact that it snows in Montana (and Wisconsin) and having a flat roof in winter just begs to leak and eventually collapse spectacularly into your living room, I would totally want a flat roof.

My Roof

8. The Centro Historico
     I am a history geek.  And on top of that, I love architecture.  So, when I have one of the best preserved colonial cities just six stops away on the Trolebus, you know I'm pretty much in heaven.  A 400 year old church? Great!  A grave from 1536?  Wonderful!  A perfect example of early colonial architecture that I can actually explore?  (I don't have a word for that, just shrieks of joy)  Nothing in Montana or Wisconsin can hold a candle to it.

7. The Cheap (And Easy) Travel
     Did you know that for $10 you can travel pretty much anywhere in the country?  The bus system here is fantastic.  You can go to almost any little out-of-the-way place, and if you see someplace interesting, you can tell the driver to stop, then just hop on the next bus that passes by.  This beats American travel so hard.  I can go to the rainforest, the mountains, or the beach, not pay more than $20 round trip, and have a good seat on a comfy bus with windows that open.  It makes me happy.

6. The Thunderstorms
     I love rain.  And I love thunderstorms even more.  In Montana and Wisconsin these are relatively rare, usually confined to a few big storms in spring.  But here in Quito, it never just rains, it always thunderstorms.  As I write this, there is a thunderstorm outside, and there have been thunderstorms every day for the past 5 days.  It's been like this for 3+ hours now, with lightning every minute or so, and thunder every 2 minutes.  And the thunder here is amazing!  It starts off far down the valley, and you can hear it working it's way up, growing in intensity until it's crashing down overhead with enough force to shake windows and set off car alarms. (And yes, the alarms go off every time, but you learn to ignore it)

A lightning strike

5. The Trolebus
     The Trolebus is not for those who are claustrophobic, need personal space, or are faint of heart.  It is an adrenaline rush of humanity, and one of those places where you realize that if you were to trip and fall, you could easily die.  First there is the push to actually get on the bus, and then grabbing on to a pole or a window frame and hanging on for dear life against the rush of people elbowing their way past you, then, finally, you are packed in like sardines to the point that at one point I actually couldn't take a deep breath.  And you know what?  I love the rush of making it on and off the Trolebus, and I will miss it sorely. 

Sorry, but this is probably the clearest shot of the Trolebus I'll ever get.

4. My Friends
     They're my friends, don't really have more to add to that.

3. Being Tall
     I'm 5'4.  My siblings are 6'2, 6'1, and 6'0.  Here, I'm taller than 80% of the population.  This is deeply (and kind of vindictively) satisfying.

2. My Students
   They're my students.  What else can I say?  I love working with them, seeing them progress, and they' ve finally stopped calling me Stacy (the name of the previous volunteer), though they seem to think my name is Isabelle instead of Elizabeth.

1. The Food
     This is a given, and easily the thing I will miss most.  I have been trying to figure out how I can continue to get this quality of food, and have come to the realization that in Montana, it's just not possible.  The juices are amazing, fresh made from fruits that I had never heard of before coming here, and the food is always fresh and easily some of the best I have ever had.  The bread most of all.  I have decided to take up baking because I need to have bread in Montana like they do here, not just sliced bread, but rolls and buns of every kind you could imagine (and a good deal that you can't).

What Are The Chances? (Pretty Good Apparently)

Quito is huge.  And when I say huge, I mean it in an M.C. Escher kind of way.  It goes on and on and you would swear you are going in a straight line, but then you end up right back where you started.  Quito is sandwiched in a rather narrow valley, and as such, has extended down the valley to the point that driving the city lengthwise from one side to the other (w/ good traffic) STILL takes 2-3 hours. (While going width wise would be maybe 20 min)  It's gotten to the point that I have stopped trying to figure out how it appears to mess with the time-space continuum, and simply accept that once we enter Quito, it's still an hour drive to our destination.  (Even though you can see the destination from the where you are)  So in a city like this, it's kind of increadible how you can run into people from the stangest places.  Example:  I would always run into Daniel, a Spanish teacher I know, along one specific road, at different times, on different days, usually because of a spur-of-the-moment trek to someplace.  Or Gen, another volunteer, who I ran into consecutivly in different places on different days, as she was exploring the town.  But my favorite has to be the American family I ran into on the Teleferico, who were only visiting for a few days.
                                          

     The Teleferico is a cable car that will take you from the valley (at roughly 10,000 feet) to the top of  the mountain range that cradles Quito (13,400 feet).  From there, you can view the city, take horse rides, or trek up a volcano.  I happened to run into these folks as they were talking about things to do in Quito.  They had just arrived from (Tennesse? or Texas?) and had decided to get the Teleferico out of the way (poor brave fools) ((don't do this, the altitude will kick your butt)).  After talking about things to do and places to shop in Quito and beyond, we parted ways.  The next day I had school, and as soon as it was finished, I went to Centro Historico to do some work at the Public Library.  Who should I run into in the Library building, but that same American family.  Seriously, nearly 2 million people living in an M. C. Escher painting, and I keep running into the same people.  I decided that it was too much of a coincidince and I needed a picture (see above).  Maybe it's just me, but I run into people in the strangest places, in other cities, in other states, even in other countries.  It's like I have a homing beacon on people I have met, and then I will find them.  They could be trekking through the middle of the Amazon rainforest, miles from human settlement,cutting through brush with machetes to make a path, and I would run into them.  Considering how often the odds tilt in my favor, I should try Vegas one of these days.

A Frank Assessment of Quito: Part 2
Quito is difficult to describe accurately, even if you have visited.  The best way to describe it is to take a large city in America, (like Chicago) and imagine cutting it up into itty bitty pieces, then sticking it all back together with no regard to order or place; that is Quito.  Small pieces of middle-class or upper middle class sandwiched between a slum building or an underground nightclub or a hole in the wall shop.  And then often buildings will have a business in them, say a gym or health clinic, and will also have apartments or a full house squirreled away somewhere within their hallways.  Houses are built on top of other houses, jenga-ed together in very inventive ways.  Also, you can't tell by looking if a house is poor or well off.  There is a law that when you finish building a house or building, you have to pay a tax.  For this reason, many people live in houses that are half finished.  The bottom one or two levels may be complete, but the upper levels may be nothing more than concrete, open to the air without windows or doors.  My house has rebar sticking out on the roof, as do the majority of buildings in Quito.  This way, people can say that they're not done building a house, they still need to add a floor or two. (Even if they have no intention of doing so)  It makes it very hard to know if a house is being built, falling apart, old, new, or even inhabited. 

A three level house that also utilizes the roof of a store off to the side; notice that the stairs are outside.

Across the street from my house.  The back is a house, the blue part is a nightclub, and the front (other street) is several shops for mechanical parts.

     The North of Quito is a little different.  It looks more like America, with space between buildings (When I saw that all the buildings had space let between them, my first though was, "How wasteful."  Shows how long I've been here.) and fences that go up to the sidewalk.  As a result, everything behind the gates is green grass and very modern (and expensive looking) buildings and products, while in the street beyond it is graffiti and street stalls and sellers hawking merchandise to passing cars.  It's a completely different world behind those walls, and if you drive everywhere, you never need leave that world. 

A Frank Assessment of Quito Part 1

     So, Quito back in the day (say 10 years ago?) was known mostly because of how unsafe it was, with the Centro Historico (Historic Distrect) being so filled with thieves, robbers, muggers, and every type of unsavory character that even the locals didn't carry anything of value and shut their shops before dark. Southern Quito wasn't much better (Northern Quito is the rich area). However, the gov't decided that the way for them to start making some money was to focus on tourism; and that meant making Quito safer and more attractive to the touristas. So the gov't invested however-many-millions of dollars into clearing out the unsavory types from the Centro Historico and fixing up the buildings. They also invested in some heavy security and some much-needed lighting. Along with giving the tourists something to see, they needed to give them someplace to stay and someplace to reaaaally spend their money. Hence, Mariscal Sucre! (also known as Gringoland) It is full of restaurants and nightclubs and basically everything a tourist could want, all at sky-high prices of course.       I, of course, live in the South, near El Recreo, (a huge mall) so I have a better knowledge of this area than any other. Compared to most western countries, this area would be considered a slum, or ghetto. As I look out my window, I can see trash up and down the street, two tires randomly on the sidewalk, and stray dogs ambling about. Loud music plays every night from a club across the street in a rusting warehouse. The decades of high crime have left an indelable impression on South Quito, with every house being built like a fortress. I've only seen one house without either a high barrier wall or heavy metal doors with multiple locks. My house has huge metal doors with 3 locks on the outside, plus another locked door in the garage, and another heavy metal locked door at the entrance of the living area. The houses around us are the same, or have 15-20 foot walls topped with barbed wire or broken glass set in concrete. Also, practically every car in Quito has a car alarm on it, most of which are prone to going off for no reason at all, so you will hear a constant stream of alarms of different types going of though the day and into the night.
      I live one block off of a major street and two blocks down from a major trollybus station, so transportation is easy enough. (a trollybus is an elongated bus that runs on electified wires above the street) The trollybuses are an experience, let me tell you. I have to cross the street to get to the station (an experience in and of itself) but it's easy to get in. A ticket is .25 cents, and the trollybuses are regular so there isn't too much of a wait. Getting on the trollybus is a different story though. Ever seen a rugby scrum? Yeah, it's kind of like that. It's one of those crowd situations where you are being hurtled forward and jostled and shoved, and you realize that if you trip and fall, you might just die. The trolleybuses are always packed, and personal space is a foreign concept. Thieves are also known to frequent the trolleybuses, ranging from pickpockets to muggers. When riding, everyone holds their purses or bags tightly in front of them. I never carry anything of value in my purse or in my pockets, and wear conservitive clothing without flashy jewelry, and so far it has worked well. Getting off is equally a struggle. You have to literally shove and elbow your way through to the doors without any thought to personal space as you use all of your strength to work your way through areas no wider than a few inches. There's a lot more, but I am going to have to write about that later. As it is getting late. Adios, and Dolce Suenos.

Update

So, the longer I am here, the more I realize just how lucky I got.  Let me start at the beginning.  Coming into Quito, the lines for immigration are very long, and usually take 45+ minutes, I was there for more than an hour, and I wasn't more than 1/3 back in the line, (So if you are visiting Quito, schedule that time into your trip) Immigration was fairly simple, and I had nothing that required more paperwork, so I was able to get out just before minnight.  The UBECI person was easy enough to spot, and had a sign w/ my name on it.  They drove me to my homestay (all of them are in the south) and I ended up in Mayra's house.  Now my room (which I love and also find hilarious) is also the kids playroom, so half the room is just toys, and I have Hello Kitty and Disney Princesses on my wall, while the colour scheme is pink and purple.  And you know what? I love that room!  It has a good bed, lots of drawers, and a huge window. 
  Now Mayra is my host mother, and she lives here with her husband and 2 children, Allison (7) and Jose (2).  She speaks English well, is studying tourism, and is increadably kind and thoughtful. Also, I have to mention that the food is absolutely increadable.  (Seriously, the food is among the best I've ever had)  This was my first piece of luck.  As I have talked to other volunteers here, the most common complaint has been the food, most of the complaints I have heard have come from the Volunteer House, the kindest being that the food is "bad enough that I need to buy a new belt" (as he had lost so much weight)  The second complaint I heard was about the noise.  The noise from the street is constant, but after a day or so, you don't really notice it. (and to me it's actually somewhat comforting)  But again, at the Volunteer House, the complaint is that the walls are really thin and you can hear everything through them.  In my house, I hear nothing except from the street, and that isn't bad at all.  However, there are advantages to staying at the Volunteer House, chief among those is that you meet other volunteers.  There are at least 7 that stay there, and if you like to party and go out on the town, then that might be the place for you, as they have things going on almost every night.  As for me, I'm not a party girl, and I have so much work to do with Spanish lessons, my classes at the school, and TEFL, that I don't have enough time as is.  So I really don't miss out. 
     The second thing I really lucked out on was the woman I was replacing at the school, was in the same house as me and I had several days with her.  Unfortunately, if you are teaching English as an assisstant, they don't really give you much help.  For Stacy (the woman I was taking over for) they literally just dropped her at the front of the school, and that was it.  UBECI focuses a lot more on the Market Children Program, and there are a lot more people, so you have more support.  Luckily for me, I had Stacy.  She took me to the school and introduced me around and showed me how to get there and back again on the bus.  I really would hate to think of where I'd be without her.  I also went to Mindo (another story) over the weekend, and she told me all about pretty much everything she knew about Quito and the school, as well as how to handle the students.  I would have been completely lost without her, bith literally and figuratively.  As for right now, I need to get back to studying my Spanish.  Adios, I'll write again later!
 

Well, This is New

Ok, so things have changed since my last post however many months ago.  At the moment, I am in Quito, Ecuador, to teach English through International Volunteer HQ (IVHQ).  I am in a homestay and will be here for three months, though at the moment that seems rather terrifing.  I will post again, later today about all the insanity here, it should be interesting.